


Galatea

by daphnerunning, Galiko



Series: Oddballs in Love [1]
Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, mentions of eating disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6835843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galiko/pseuds/Galiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there’s one thing Itsuki Shu knows, it’s his own limitations.</p><p>Well, no, if there’s one thing Itsuki Shu knows, it’s how to use tissue paper to make hand-sewing chiffon easier, but at least he has a passing familiarity with his own mental limitations.</p><p>- </p><p>In which Valkyrie begins to dust off the ashes of their defeat, and some dreams are closer to coming to life than ever anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Today isn’t quite cloud nine, but it’s pretty close. 

His bento is as bad as usual, but Kagehira Mika doesn’t care. It reeks of Shu’s care, after all, and so picking off a few burnt parts and eating the rest isn’t going to kill him, especially when it’s tempered with rice that _isn’t_ burnt. Victory makes it sweeter, Nito trying at least half-way nice makes it kind of bittersweet, and the end result is remembering how happy Shu had looked for the first time since--

Mika shoves a mound of rice into his mouth, and exhales a long sigh through his nose. 

Winning over Ra*bits is the first step, yeah, but it’s at least a step. As he peels off another weirdly overcooked piece of rice _film_ off of the top of his food, he perks up at the sight of Arashi coming into their classroom to eat. “Hey, Naru-chan! Gimme a bite of one of your meat buns, pleeeeease.”

Arashi slides into his usual seat with a sigh of relief, wriggling his toes a few times to try and restore some feeling. Getting Knights all fired up to perform is certainly a double-edged sword, if it means short practices even at _lunch_. 

If it were anyone else asking for food, he’d probably cling to his meager stash of meat buns (which isn’t so meager). Mika, however...

Maybe he has a bit of a soft spot for the kid. Someone has to, after all. “Catch, Mika-chan,” he sing-songs, tossing over a bun and looking mournfully at the rest of his stack. “Ahh, I probably shouldn’t have any more calories than this, anyway. Heh, I was lazy. You’re really saving me from myself.”

“I shouldn’t be havin’ a lot of calories either,” Mika cheerfully admits, even as he takes a huge mouthful and swallows it in about two seconds. “But ‘m hungry. Ahh, it’s a lot of work gettin’ Oshi-san all fired up again, but I’ve _got_ this now. We nailed that show and he’s all excited, we’re gonna go fabric shoppin’ and everything.” 

“I heard good things about your live~! I’m glad you could get him all...fired up.” Is a wink too much? Probably never! “I’m sure your special skills were useful, hmm, Mika-chan?”

Mika blinks back over at him as he gnaws on his (not burnt) meat bun. “Dunno what you’re talking about. When it comes to puttin’ on a show, it’s pretty easy to get him into it. I mean,” he amends, “it used to be.” 

Well, Mika has always been a little bit...not exactly _quick_ on the uptake of his jokes, but at least he usually understands if Arashi is entirely blunt, which is more than he can say for the rest of his team. And classmates. And club mates. “But he’s fired up now, you say? That’s good. If Valkyrie is making a comeback, Knights should be worried, hmm?”

“You’re gonna die,” Mika bluntly says. “Sorry about it, but your music’s like, really bad.” 

“Ouch! You don’t pull your opinions at all, do you?” Arashi laughs to himself, and makes a mental note not to let Mika hang out with any of his friends. The kid would get torn apart. “Does Itsuki like to hear your opinions? I was under the impression he was a bit of a dictator.” That’s putting it very nicely. And adding ‘tator.’

“He likes it when I have an opinion, yeah.” Mika plops his chin down into one hand, his eyes lidding as he smiles. “Even if he’s gonna do it his way, I usually agree, y’know? He knows what he’s doin’ and what he wants. Even if he was a dictator, though...at least he’s got a vision.” _Which is waaay more than I can say about your unit, geez._

“Even the things you don’t say today sting,” Arashi says with a sigh. He nibbles on the second meat bun, contemplative. “You’ve got a bento, Mika-chan. Why not eat that?”

“...Because Oshi-san made it, and I mean, it’s good’n’all, but uhh...” Not so stealthily, he scoots it to the side. “Ever since he started cookin’ for me, I put on a lot of weight, y’know, and he still gets mad if I don’t eat all of my dinner when I get home, so I figure if I kinda...I dunno...space things out a little...” The slice of cake is still tempting, though, even if it’s burnt. 

Arashi picks at some of the dough on the side of his bun, careful not to expose the meat within. “I thought Valkyrie made new costumes for each performance. So it shouldn’t be an issue if you can’t fit into the old costumes, right?”

“Well, _yeah_ , but...” Mika fidgets, torn between his previous statements and what he wants to shove in his mouth now, and he finally gives in, deciding he’ll work on his self-control later. “I still wanna be cute,” he says around a mouthful of cake and frosting. “Gettin’ fat wouldn’t be. I think Oshi-san would get annoyed.”

“You were a bit too skinny before, Mika-chan, don’t you think?” Arashi kicks back, grabbing his water bottle and chugging a bit to quiet the grumbling of his stomach. “Maybe he thought so, too. You care a lot about what he thinks of your body, hmm?”

Mika carefully sections off a piece of the cake that isn’t burnt (and so, most normal people would think is pretty good) and holds it out on a plastic fork to Arashi. “Cute girls eat cake,” he points out. “I want Oshi-san to think I’m cute even if I’m not a girl, but you’ve got a pass and everythin’, so take advantage.” 

“Aren’t you already living in his room?” Arashi points out wryly, taking a nibble of the cake that...all right, to be honest, it’s not nearly as bad as he was expecting. Damn, there goes that infernal sweet tooth again! “He must think you’re cute, hmm? He doesn’t seem like the sort to put up with people he doesn’t like.”

“I dunno if he thinks I’m that cute,” Mika admits, shrugging dismissively. “It’s not like he makes me dresses or anything. Then I’d be really cute, I could wear a dress.” 

Arashi’s eyebrows make a permanent home in his hair. “You want to wear dresses, huh? You’d be awful cute in something big and frilly, with giant skirts? Ah, is it that it’s the fashion with those poofy ones to cover one eye, is that it?”

Reflexively, Mika lifts a hand to rub at his right eye, and smoothes his hair over it in the process. “That would be cute, but Oshi-san likes my eyes, which I think is weird, but whatever. I’d still look cute in a dress like that...but I’m not good enough t’make it myself, and I don’t think he ever would, not for me.” 

“You _would_ look cute,” Arashi says, with a bit of a nudge to Mika’s shoulder. “Hey...” No, it’s killing him not to know, he’s _got_ to know. “What are you two, anyway? You live together, but you swear it’s not anything immoral, that you’re just his pretty pet, right? But you also want to look cute for him and wear dresses, so...I’m not being stupid to think you have a crush on him, right? Like me and Kunugi-sensei?”

Mika sways with the nudge, still distracted by trying to cover up one of his eyes when his hair isn’t quite long enough to do so. “Of course I like him,” he mumbles, shuffling his feet slowly against the floor. “But he’s not into me like that. It’s…he’s…yeah. Other people are way prettier than me, that’s what he likes.”

 _What was his name? Nazuma? It’s got to be him, the one that switched to Ra*bits. Didn’t I hear something about that?_ Not from Mika, but through the grapevine, through some of his seriously cute little kouhai. “You think he wants someone else.”

“Nah. I _know_ he wants someone else.” Mika shrugs again. “It’s fine, but I’m not gonna like, hover over him and harass him to like me when I know it’s a waste of time. I’d rather spend my time tryin’ to get better at stuff, so maybe he’ll eventually see that I’m just as good.”

Arashi sighs, then stands, his complaining feet twinging. “Well, hopefully you’ll find a way to talk to him soon. Maybe you’re wrong about him, you know. You didn’t think he’d go perform with you again, right? But he did? Maybe things aren’t so bad as you think, right?” He squeezes Mika’s shoulder on his way out, then ruffles his hair. “You’re as cute as any girl in the school, sweetie.”

“Uugh, I’m not a girl,” Mika complains, half-heartedly swatting Arashi away. “You’re not _listenin’_ , I don’t think things are that bad! I’m just bein’ realistic, y’know. It’s not like he isn’t awfully nice sometimes.” He heaves a long sigh, slumping down with a shrug. “You need to wear a dress _way_ more than me, anyway.”

“Ah, but no one wants to make _me_ pretty clothes.” Arashi winks, and heads off to his next class, hesitating over the last half meat bun before shoving it in his mouth at long last.


	2. Chapter 2

“Kagehira! Kagehira, where on _earth_ do you think you’ve gone? Ah! I see you, don’t think you can get away from me that easily!”

Itsuki Shu, absent his beloved Mademoiselle for once, stalks towards the garbage heap, holding a monogrammed handkerchief over his nose. “You took another part-time job again? I don’t mind the determination, but if you start skipping practice for such things, I really don’t know what I’ll do. Probably fill your empty head with cotton and stitch it up properly!”

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry! The time got away from me, sorry!”

Mika, up to his knees in recycling bins and plastic bags, heaves a long, heavy sigh, and straightens to his feet, making a face as he peels his gloves off. “I’ve been sortin’ all this stuff all day because I thought it would be easier to find stuffed animals, too, but ‘m out of luck there,” he mournfully says. “Let me just get cleaned up, and we can go to practice together, okay?”

Shu huffs heavily, stamping one foot as he taps a finger impatiently. “We weren’t _going_ to _practice_ , Kagehira. We were going shopping. Though now, we should just stay and practice dancing until our feet bleed.”

“Right, right, sorry, I forgot.” Mika winces, hopping around the garbage and hoping that he doesn’t reek as much as Shu seems to be implying. He probably doesn’t, it’s just sorting recycling stuff, but boy, if Shu doesn’t stop making those faces, that’s going to be a rough shopping trip. “I didn’t know if you still wanted to do the shoppin’ thing, and I wanted to make sure we had a little extra money if you did, sorry.”

Shu taps his foot again, scowling around at the dump. “I suppose you don’t smell too terrible. Follow along.” How long will they go, he wonders, before Mika realizes they aren’t going by the supermarket, but the fabric store?

“Comin’, comin’.”

Mika fingercombs his hair as he trots after Shu, shedding his paper apron into another trash bin as he passes it. “Kind of a gross job, but no one bothers me, y’know? But either way, I got more money put into the budget, so we should have a lot to spend at the fabr…uhh…wherever we’re going.” Heh. Shit. Assuming stuff is just going to get him told off, and he’s already too tired to do more than smile and nod about it.

Shu smiles to himself, and holds out his bag for Mika to carry as sort of a reward for being quick on the uptake. “Put away your pocket change for practice sessions next week, Kagehira. Father sent me an allowance for fabrics this morning.” After Shu had texted him the night before, begging for money after inspiration had struck for the first time in months, after beating Ra*bits into the pavement.

Which is how they end up eating croissants before fabric shopping (with Mika firm about talking to the cashier himself, no matter how it shakes him, and selecting croissants from the back of the tray that no one has touched), and being perhaps too close for comfort for the entire shopping trip.

Sewing for hours afterwards, eating Shu’s (questionable) cooking—that’s all well and good, but the best is when they finally get to curl up in bed together, and Mika side-eyes Mademoiselle from across the room. “Is Mado-nee gonna stay in here tonight, or does she get a break from our relaxin’ time?”

“No, no...Mademoiselle wouldn’t be interested in this subject matter. Pick one of the movies from my relaxing shelf, would you?” There’s all manner of things on there, from old musicals to documentaries about baking, from leathercrafting tutorials to trashy historical romances, usually involving Marie Antoinette. Shu heaves himself up onto the bed facedown, and manages another bite, to stop Kagehira from bothering him if anything.

“Yep, got it.”

Mika doesn’t particularly try hard to discriminate between the movies, but it does happen to be a particularly trashy romance that he tosses on--one that he knows has put Shu to sleep, if nothing else. “There,” he hums, flopping down onto the bed next to Shu and better arranging the pillows. “Now you can relax, right? Oshi-san, jus’ remember, the more rice you eat now, the less you’re gonna be distracted by being hungry tomorrow, too.” He needs to have an arsenal of croissants ready for lunch.

“Yes, yes, your nagging is unappreciated,” Shu mutters, and stuffs a good half the bowl into his mouth before giving up, shoving the bowl into Kagehira’s hands.

The movie is perfect, and he even allows Kagehira to stay on his bed for the entire thing, though he drifts off to sleep before it’s more than halfway over. It’s a deep sleep, but he wakes too early, rising with a compulsive need, jittery and unsettled. Carefully, he disentangles himself from Kagehira--he’s such a heavy and warm sleeper, wrapped all around him--and makes his way upstairs on socked feet in his nightshirt, up to his second work room that no one else is ever allowed in.

There, in the dim lights he has rigged for night sewing, he pulls out the other dressforms. There are several, but the two he’s working on now are draped in complex, rococo-style gowns, draped in ruffles and rippling to the floor. Just looking at them soothes his nerves, and he picks up a hand needle. No machines on these, not when he’s been working on them for so many years. There are others hidden back in the recesses of the attic, but the blue one...the blue one is his masterpiece, a whipped cream fantasy of charm and ruffles and the ribbons he’d picked out earlier, the ones that match Kagehira’s blue eye to the exact hue.

This work is soothing, hand stitching each bit of trim, following a pattern only in his mind, one that he’s only ever created in miniature for one of his dolls. Seconds tick by into silent minutes, the only sound in the attic the noise of silk thread drawn through the fabric.

“Oshi-san? Nnn, Oshi-san, why are you up here so late, you’re not sleepwalkin’, are you...”

Mika, exhausted and still sleep-floppy and really not interested in getting in trouble (he can always remember that much, even if he’s mostly asleep), barely cracks open the door, and only sort of nudges at it with one hand covered mostly in the fabric of his nightshirt. Waking up to an empty bed is no good, because now he’s cold, but it’s worse when he lies there for a few minutes yet and Shu doesn’t come back. Maybe he’s being too worried for nothing, but... “It’s so late, Oshi-san,” he yawns, flopping against the door. “I mean, if you wanna work, that’s fine, but lemme get you somethin’ to eat or drink or somethin’...”

Kagehira’s voice should be more startling. Voices usually are, to Shu, but for some reason...

“I don’t need anything. You should sleep.” He draws the silk thread through the fabric again, then in a split-second decision, says through the door, “We’ve had a good day, haven’t we, Mika?” Silk whispers through silk, a filagree flower coming to life.

“Mmnn, yeah, we have.” Mika flops against the door a little more, and if he rubs his cheek against it, maybe he can think for a second that it’s Shu that he’s nuzzling up to again in bed. “But you should sleep, Oshi-san. It’s so la...”

_Mika, he called me Mika._

Coming from anyone else, it’s immediate irritation. Kagehira is at least a masculine sounding name. Mika is a bad name, written in stupid hiragana, and it could be made better at least by having kanji, but nope, his parents couldn’t even bother. His mouth goes dry, and Mika slinks down a bit more, daring to stick his fingers in through the cracked door, poking at the carpet. “If you’re not gonna come to bed, then I can keep you company...”

The needle pauses, point embedded in sapphire silk. “You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t.” Mika pokes at the carpet again, sliding more of his hand into the room. “Whatever it is, I won’t, promise.”

“But it’s...” Shu flaps his hands, waiting for the annoyance, the irritation, the nervousness to surge up. All that happens is that his knees start aching, reminding him how long he’s been kneeling on the floor. He sighs, then ties off the thread, standing and stretching out, then moves to the door. “Move, I’m coming back to bed.”

 _Did I do something wrong?_ The question is on Mika’s tongue even as he hurries to do as he’s told, scooting away from the door. He hesitates, peering up at Shu through his tousled bangs. “If you’re making more stuff for Mado-nee, you know I think that’s cool,” he warily says.

Shu gives his head a distracted little pat and a weary smile. “Just my foolishness. Indulge me, please, I’m...” _Trying_.

When is the last time he’d felt this inspired to create, anyway? Longer than just the time since Tenshouin, since the student council had ruined him. He remembers--

That day, when Kagehira and Nito had taken his hands, and they’d run around the school selling tickets. He’d sewn up here until dawn then, on the dress as golden as dawn, currently gathering dust at the back of the attic.

Shu looks so tired. It’s the middle of the night, admittedly, but he looks tired beyond that, and Mika bites his lip as he slowly heaves himself to his feet. “Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s dumb,” he murmurs, hesitating for a second before he reaches out to gently grab for Shu’s wrist. “Can I see? I mean, I jus’...your work’s always so nice, and if you’re spendin’ time on it like this, it’s gotta be worth it, yeah?”

Shu gives Kagehira’s shoulder a squeeze, then a gentle shove, back down the stairs. “When it’s done, perhaps. I’m actually working again, so...it won’t be long. Maybe.”

“Ehh? But--” Mika stumbles down the stairs, frowning. “You’re not playin’ fair, Shu,” he complains, huffing as he stomps down the stairs. “I just wanna see whatever pretty thing you’re doin’ this time.”

“Hush, fool, I’m not playing at all, stop following me in the middle of the night.” That feels more familiar, at least, and Shu feels his eyes droop as he hauls Kagehira into the bedroom. In the middle of the night like this, he doesn’t even pretend Kagehira is going to sleep on the futon on the floor, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him into the bed.

“I didn’t follow you, you jus’ got up and left me,” Mika whines, slithering into bed next to him and immediately snuggling up. Like this, it really feels like they’re something that they aren’t, but he can’t complain too much when Shu is immediately pulling him into bed and letting him spoon against him, his face nuzzled into his hair. “Shuuuu. Whatever it is, finish it already, I wanna see.”

Shu turns over, feeling Kagehira curling up behind him, and his pulse spikes for a moment. He really is despicable, enjoying this so much from someone who is ostensibly in his care. “When did you start calling me that?” Part of him wants to say _stop it immediately_ , but then it would sound as if he actually enjoys being called ‘Oshi-san,’ which he isn’t ready to admit. “Don’t do that in public.”

Mika’s mouth opens, shuts, and he sinks down into the bed a bit more, hoping the dim light is enough for Shu to not see how nervous he looks. “Just started a few minutes ago, ‘cuz you called me ‘Mika’,” he mumbles. “If it bugs you, I won’t. Sorry.”

Shu stuffs his face into the pillow, muffling his speech. “Idiot. Don’t apologize for things that don’t bother me.”

“Oh.” Even if he’s still wary, Mika can’t quite stop himself from nestling closer still, his arms daring to curl his way around Shu’s waist. “Then I just won’t do it in public.” Did he just score proverbial points? Mika thinks he did. Crushing down the thought of _Did Nazuna-nii ever get to call him Shu?_ is pretty damn hard, but Mika does try.


	3. Chapter 3

Curiosity killed the cat and all that stuff, but Mika figures if he’s careful, Shu’s not going to notice if he takes just a peek.

For once, he’s home early. They don’t walk home together because Shu’s got an errand for Mademoiselle, or so he says, and that means that Mika shows up at Shu’s house all alone, and his mind immediately goes where it goes.

He’s never been more than a hand inside of Shu’s private sewing room. Last night was even the first time it’s been that much, and so stepping inside feels like he’s violating some kind of sacred tomb. For a moment, he just has to pause in the doorway, staring at the dress forms wrapped in some of the prettiest dresses he’s ever seen--the kind of stuff that you see in paintings, the kind of stuff that a high school boy doesn’t make, but a long-time professional makes.

He’s so talented, why is he hiding this kind of stuff?

The first dress is layers of blue and lace and ribbons, and even just touching the fabric makes Mika shiver. Too pretty. Way too pretty for someone like him. Hestares at it for a long time before somehow, his school uniform hits the floor, and trying it on becomes his next task before he can really think it through.

A dumb mistake, that, because of course it doesn’t fit, it’s not for him.

Hopefully, it looks as untouched as it had been before when he puts it back on the dress form, annoyed at himself and the realization that Shu’s definitely still making things for Nito, not him. Well, that’s fair. Nito’s smaller and cuter, and he’d look like a real doll in these kinds of things. The other dress that’s all yellows and golds--well, now he’s just going to put it on out of spite, honestly, because he’s here and he can.

This one, at least, fits. Mika heaves a long sigh, fingering the lace underneath his fingertips, and glowering at the blue dress like it has betrayed him. Maybe he needs to start refusing a few burnt cakes. Then he can sneak up here again and try it on with greater success.

“Non!”

Shu’s bookbag hits the floor. The look on his face, standing in the doorway of his attic, is a mixture of horror, embarrassment, and anger. “Take that off! Take it off immediately, I never said you could wear that!”

Mika sees something like his life flashing before his eyes, brief as it might have been, and the embarrassment of being caught doing something so stupid, the worst thing he could be doing because he knows how protective Shu is of this room, and the things in it--

This is definitely not for me, why would it be, I’ve told him a million times I think my name is girly and I don’t want to be girly, of course this isn’t for me, it’s for Nazuma-nii, it’s definitely for Nazuma-nii.

“Sorry, I’m sorry--” What can he even say at this point? His face burns, his hands shaking as he struggles to shimmy his way out of the dress without damaging it in any way. “I--” He gulps, blinking back the sharp, salty sting of tears that suddenly come to his eyes, and scrambles to grab for his own clothes. Time to start commuting again, time to just quit, I’ll never be in Valkyrie after this.

“Don’t touch those!”

Shu’s voice is shaking, shrill, and urgent enough to stop a mob in its tracks. He strides into the room, face pale, and rips the school uniform out of Kagehira’s hands, throwing it onto the ground.

His basest urge is to lock himself away for another month, nervous to the point that he makes himself sick every day. The tears in Kagehira’s eyes tell him clearly--he’s about to lose Kagehira the way he’d lost Nito (beautiful Nito, Nito that could have been his as long as he had something to want, Nito who was supposed to be everything and had left him with the echo of a forced smile)--

With a trembling finger, he points at the golden dress on the floor. “That...is no good. It was never--never right.”

He trails his hands over the shoulders of the sapphire gown, sliding it off the dressform, and steels himself before handing it over. _Don’t go. Don’t refuse. Don’t turn your back on me, I’ll never leave my house again, I swear it, I’ll be just like Grandmother alone with my dolls until they find my corpse--_

Mika stares back at him, trembling, eyes wide and unsure. “I...I t-tried that one.” His voice sounds weak, horrendously shaky in the way it always gets whenever he tries to interview for a stupid job, or when he’s got an audition that requires actual talking. His accent sounds embarrassingly thick like this, a million times worse than it usually is, and he wants nothing more than to crawl into a hole. “It w-wouldn’t fit, ‘m sorry, ’s way too p-pretty for someone like me--”

“Of course it fits. H-how dare you.” Damn, he’s picking up that stutter. That kind of nervousness is, apparently, somewhat contagious. Shu tries to walk, and it takes him a few stuttering tries until he manages, grabbing a black corset from a hanging rack at the back of the attic. “Arms up. Or, or you can...you can go. You don’t--have to...”

Mika shakes his head so hard that he feels dizzy, desperate to please at this point, and not even really seeing what Shu is doing. It doesn’t matter. Arms up, trying not to shake, he can do that much. “If y’d-don’t want me to go, I won’t,” he whispers. “M...maybe I was just puttin’ it on wrong? I’ve n-never seen a dress that pretty before...”

“It’s not done,” Shu protests. He lowers the corset over Kagehira’s arms, mouth dry. It’s going to work, he can tell. “Breathe out, I’m going to tighten the strings. It, it gives you a more feminine figure. This dress...it was made f-for you.”

“Eh?” That comes out as way more of a squeak than Mika wants it to, and his head snaps up in shock. “B-but--I thought--” No, now is not the time to say what he thought, that all of this was for Nito, perfect, pretty Nito. He swallows hard, shutting his eyes as he tries to do as he’s told, breathing out a long, deep breath.

Shu tightens the strings in a way he wishes was more deft, but in all reality... “I haven’t done this before,” he mutters, partially to explain the hesitation in his fingers, partly to disguise the quaver in his voice. “That...that should be good. The book said the ease could be up to fifteen centimeters, but I only allotted space for five, so you can...breathe, I hope. How does it feel?”

“I-it’s fine.” Honestly, he could be entirely unable to breathe and he wouldn’t complain right now. Mika sucks in a shuddery, unsteady breath, trying not to fidget where he stands. He must look ridiculous, but for some reason, Shu is still putting up with him--for some reason. “Tight, but it’s fine,” he quickly, hurriedly adds to make sure that Shu knows he isn’t complaining.

“Good, good.” He ties off the corset, then lifts the dress, lowering it to whisper against the ground. “Step in. Carefully, carefully, the embroidery...” His heart thuds in his chest--if Kagehira hates this, he isn’t sure what his mind will do.

Summoning every single bit of his grace--which isn’t much in moments like these, Mika knows, but he’s trying--Mika gingerly steps into the dress, holding stark-still while he waits for Shu to ease it into place. When he’d tried to try it on before, it hadn’t worked at all, but maybe, with Shu’s touch, with the corset...he bites his lip, trying not to stare too much at how the ruffles move, or how the embroidery practically shines in the dim light. “It’s the most beautiful dress ‘ve ever seen,” he mumbles. _I don’t deserve it, not something this pretty._

“It--never looked good enough on the form.” The lacings on the back aren’t exactly period-accurate, but that just means he can do them up more accurately. The tightest one is a bit of a stretch, but the boning holds everything in place, and everything else works well enough.

Then, because he can no longer stop them, Shu’s hands drift up into Mika’s hair, carding through the soft strands. “Back, so I can see your eyes, don’t you dare hide them from me--and I want to see those earrings of yours, too.” It’s another long few seconds before he finally lets his hands drop.

Mika swallows audibly. He’s crazy, definitely, to be enjoying this so much. It feels like a dream--Shu made this dress for him, put him in a corset, laced it up and wrapped him up in so much finery that he can barely breathe--and now he’s petting his hair and telling him not to hide his eyes? “T-they don’t match, though,” he says self-consciously, lifting a hesitant hand to thumb over the tiny studs in his ears. “And my eyes are just weird, they...they’d make everyone stare at them instead, that’s no good.”

“Hold still.” Shu moves reluctantly from Mika’s side, to where he’d stashed what he’d made earlier--little bows from the ribbons, one the color of each eye. “Now,” he asks softly, pinning up the bangs at each side, “do you believe I made this for you, and you alone?” He can feel the doubts rolling off of Mika in a wave. Every nerve he has trembles. He’s never been so honest in his life, and it’s an utterly terrifying experience.

With the corset, it’s hard for his chest to sort of heave when Shu does that, but it tries, anyway, and Mika stifles a sniffle as much as he can. Tears prick at his eyes again, and he hurriedly lifts a hand to scrub at them. “Sorry--sorry, ‘m not trying to hide them,j-just trying not to be dumb and cry all over everything,” he whispers, trying to laugh it off and failing with a pathetic little hiccup. “It’s so pretty, Sh--O-oshi-san, you didn’t have to.” He sucks in another desperate breath. “Thank you. So much.”

“Shh.” God, Shu feels like some kind of lame, dumb, helpless fool right now, every one of his actions clumsy and inept. He touches Mika’s face with a trembling finger, brushing off a tear, and can’t help but bring it to his lips to taste it. “Don’t--it makes it so strange when you thank me, I’m just--doing what I always do, you’re so lovely, I just want you to be as beautiful as possible, my--my most radiant doll.” The words are almost hollow, as if he doesn’t believe them himself. “I did this for my sake, stop--you always believe the best in me, when it isn’t even there, why do you do that--”

Mika shakes his head, and reaches out to grab at Shu’s hand, clinging firmly to it.He can hear the rustle of silks, and it makes his face flush further. “It’s not what you always do, though, you know it. This is special. Like, really special. N-no one’s ever...ever done something this nice for me before.” His breath hiccups again, and Mika has to laugh at himself now, sniffling as he looks aside. “I...I’m not that beautiful, but y’make me feel that way.”

Shu kisses him.

It happens so fast he doesn’t even realize he’s done it until his lips are pulling away, the taste of Mika lingering on his mouth. “It--it can’t be a surprise,” he whispers. Can it? He’s always been so sure he’s clear about what he wants, but...

Mika had thought, he’d assumed, but he’d been unsure the moment he saw these dresses, but now...

“Thank god,” he groans, lurching forward, grabbing at Shu’s arms and clinging as he stretches up to kiss him again. “I thought you still--n-never mind, not important,” Mika murmurs, his face flushed as he holds tight, still afraid that Shu might bolt at any moment. “I’ve...I’ve always wanted...but I thought...”

Shu bolting isn’t an idle concern. If it hadn’t been for Mika’s hands grabbing him, he might have run already, retreating to lock himself up again until the world stops being quite so vulgar and cruel. His legs wobble, and he backs up until he gets to a high-backed antique wooden chair, tugging Mika down into his lap, burying his face in his neck, just smelling, just nuzzling. “Let me,” he whispers. “Just--let me--” One hand starts rucking up the skirts, sliding up one toned calf, up past the knee.

Oh. Oh. Realization clicks starkly into place the moment Shu pulls him into his lap, and Mika has to remind himself to shut his own mouth and stop gaping like a fish out of water. “O...okay,” he exhales, clinging to Shu’s neck, feeling the skin underneath those long fingers twitching, trembling. “I--I don’t wanna mess up the dress, though--”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll--I promise, I’ll fix it.” That should be enough for Mika, because the idea of talking more about this, about what it is he wants to _do_ , is enough to make Shu want to go running. Instead, his hand travels up, skating over the smooth warm skin of Mika’s thigh, his breath coming fast and ragged. His arm rasps over a pale silk flower, and he brushes a soft, eager kiss against Mika’s neck. His hand splays out over Mika’s upper thigh, wanting more, still nervous to go any farther when Mika hasn’t _asked_ him to, not really.

Mika’s breath catches up in his throat, his heart feeling like it’s about to thud through his chest. He’s _got_ to be dreaming, _got to be,_ because in no universe is Shu this into him, this _interested_ in touching him after dressing him in something so beautiful—

But here they are, and even if it is a dream, Mika isn’t going to turn down a chance like this.

He fumbles, grabbing at Shu’s arm underneath all of that hiked up fabric, urging it upward no matter how his face flushes hotter still. “Please,” he mumbles, shoving his face into Shu’s hair, shivering with every brush of Shu’s mouth against his neck. He’s way less embarrassed about…well, all of this, way more annoyed with himself that he doesn’t have anything pretty underneath, just boxers that don’t fit the situation at _all_ —but it’s too much to imagine himself in lingerie for Shu to unwrap on top of this, definitely.

Shu bites down a frantic gasp, muffling the noise into Mika’s neck and shoulder as his hand brushes against basic stretch cotton, so out of place under the cacophony of silk ruffles that Shu wants to rip it off and burn it--

Yet it grounds him in the fact that this is _Kagehira_ , this is real, this isn’t one of his fever dreams. It’s imperfect, the way everything with Mika has been so far, but that doesn’t mean...Maybe, just maybe, the fact that it’s imperfect doesn’t mean it isn’t worthwhile.

Because Mika is letting him press urgent kisses to that lovely pale skin (not too hard, must never tarnish, mustn’t taint, mustn’t bruise), and guiding his hand up, until it slips under the elastic waistband to curl against his half-hard length, dragging another embarrassingly eager gasp from his throat as he starts to stroke in something from his deepest fantasies.

Shu’s hand is ridiculously soft, his fingers long and careful and _perfect_ , and Mika has a hard time stifling the noises he makes into Shu’s hair.

The second Shu’s fingers curl around his cock, he aches. He bites down on a whimper, his thighs spreading wider as he shifts and squirms on Shu’s thigh, his fingers biting into Shu’s shoulders and through his blazer. Mika throws shame to the wind, no longer concerned with how he’s so hard now that his cock drips against Shu’s fingers, probably staining fabric, but _whatever_ , it feels so good that it doesn’t matter.

“Shuuu…” Mika huffs out a hot breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries not to come _immediately_ , just over a hand on his dick, but that’s easier said than done when his world narrows to the touch of Shu’s soft, warm palm.

Mika is whining his name, and it doesn’t bother him like he’d thought it would. Shu has had this fantasy, and he’d thought for certain he’d need his partner to be absolutely silent during the act. That was supposed to be part of the fantasy, his elegant, perfect, immobile doll come to life.

As it turns out, the ‘come to life’ part is proving more important than he’d bargained for, and every time Mika whines and squirms, his breath comes faster in heated pants against that pale neck. Hearing his own name--that does more for him than he’d ever expected. He curls his hand, dragging his thumb over the tip, biting his lip when he feels the slick pearl of liquid beading there. “It feels good,” he whispers, more to reassure himself than to ask, and he strokes again, base to tip, base to tip, squeezing the head a little each time.

“Uh huh,” Mika gasps out, his fingers trembling as he clings to Shu’s shoulders, his toes curling so hard that his legs start to cramp. His cock jumps in Shu’s hold, and it takes everything in his power to not be gross and just rut against that hold, to thrust hard against that perfect, elegant hand--

Not that it matters, because it’s only one more twist of Shu’s hand before he spills with a ragged whine. His vision blurs, and the tremors that sweep down his spine threaten to make him fall out of Shu’s lap at this rate, so he clings all the more to Shu’s shoulders, desperately dragging breath in through his lungs with heavy, needy pants.

“Perfect,” Shu murmurs distractedly, coaxing Mika through the last of the shakes, until he’s floppy and nuzzling and clinging, and Shu can wrap his left arm around Mika’s waist, pulling him close. The fabric almost feels alive, so much lovelier, so much more vibrant than it had been gathering dust on the dressform, waiting for the ever-farther day when it would be completed. Some of the tension in his mind, always winding him too-tight, starts to fade.

Well, apparently, with the sweat cooling on Mika’s neck, it’s time to put some of this into words.

“I’d prefer...to continue this behavior,” Shu says delicately. “T-to kiss you, when you don’t mind it.”

Mika, unthinkingly, grabs immediately for Shu’s face, hauling him into a kiss right then and there. “Never gonna mind it,” he mumbles, butting his face against Shu’s. “So good, that was so good, Osh....Shu. Any time y’want, please...”

Shu leans into the kiss, lightheaded and...there’s some other distracting emotion attempting to poke at him, but damned if he can identify it right now. It’s enough to kiss, to have his perfect doll in his arms, lovely and wanting him. My Galatea, at last.

He gathers Mika more firmly onto his lap, brushing away the hair in his face before leaning in to kiss him again. “I...should probably take the corset off of you,” he admits, loathe as he is to put an end to the fairytale. “If it’s your first time...breathing...” Where the blasted hell are his words? They usually come so easily, when nothing else does.

Mika shakes his head firmly, attaching himself tightly to Shu’s neck. “Feels fine,” he murmurs, face flushed with pleasure. “I can breathe.” Mostly. “Um--d’you--d’you want me to do you, too? I could, whatever y’want...” He’s still more than a little wary about trying to grab for Shu’s cock out of the blue--is this a reciprocal thing? It’s so hard to tell with Shu whether or not he wants to be touched or not, even if they’re already kissing right now.

The idea is too much, not right at all, and Shu shakes his head firmly. That’s not how this goes, and reminds him far too much that this lifelike doll isn’t his immaculate fantasy, but a real person who makes mistakes. How low. Firmly, he stands Mika up on his feet, taking the opportunity to walk around him, carefully inspecting. “It looks different when you wear it,” he murmurs to himself. “I’ll need--you should be wearing makeup. And I’ll want to fix your hair--and you should be in heels. Can you walk in heels, or do I need to train you?” He’s never done it himself, but it surely can’t be too hard, if all of his dolls can do it.

Maybe later, then. Mika doesn’t take offense at the refusal, because that’s just Shu--he’s that way, and if Mika weren’t used to it by now... “Um, I’ve never done it in girls’ heels before, but I’ve done it in boots ‘n stuff, so it’s prolly about the same?” Mika hesitantly says, rocking on his feet as his legs still threaten to go out from underneath him. Gingerly, he thumbs one of the flowers on the dress, afraid to touch and pull at much else. “Sorry my hair isn’t longer, it must look dumb.”

“If I wanted your hair longer, I’d have forbidden you to cut it last year,” Shu says idly, touching and plucking at the occasional flower. Watching the dress come alive is magical, and does more for his mental state than he’d expected. Everything is quiet now, gentle falling water music in his mind. A few ruffles and folds that hadn’t worked before fall into place now, landing perfectly on Mika’s hips, draping elegantly to the floor. He moves to an antique armoire, fishing out a pair of elegant heels that he knows are Mika’s size. “Go on.”

“Oh. Right now.” Geez, Shu could at least wait until his knees didn’t feel like buckling. Mika tries not to look too grumpy about it, because it’s still a treat, after all, even though stumbling his way into heels takes effort. He bends to tug them onto his feet, and manages to only wobble for a second before righting himself and smoothing the dress down distractedly again. “Ahh...now I’m almost as tall as you,” he mutters, rubbing at the back of his neck. “That’s kinda weird.”

Mika’s right. It is weird. “Hmm. I’ll...think about that later.” Not when the fantasy is so close to being complete and Mika still doesn’t seem like he wants to leave. He itches to take a picture, or sketch, or something, anything to preserve the moment...but he can take pictures of the stillest of his dolls. This one will always be different. And isn’t that why he’d made it this size in the first place?

With that realization, he lets out a sigh, and waves at Mika to take off the shoes, moving behind to start unfastening the buttons. “Honestly, Mika. Why you put up with my whims I’ll never understand. Are you so desperate for my attention that you would do even this to please me? It isn’t that it’s unappreciated, of course...”

Mika blinks at him, his head tilting. “Eh? Ah...I mean, I really, really want you t’pay attention to me,” he admits shamelessly, carefully dropping down into a chair to toe off his shoes. “But it’s been a dream of mine for y’to make me a dress,” he says with a self-depreciating laugh. “I never thought you would...but, ah, I was wrong, and that’s th’ best.”

Shu pauses for a moment, then has to laugh at himself, a soft chuckle that anyone else would probably think sounds sinister instead of self-deprecating. It doesn’t matter. It’s only him and Mika here. “I thought you’d hate it,” he admits. “Because you hate being thought of as girly for your name. I...it’s important to me. I am not accustomed to caring what people think of me, and--not that I care what you think of me, of course,” he lies quickly, “but...this was always supposed to be perfect, and that would have tainted it, and...and you should always tell me if there’s something you want me to make for you. What good is an inspiration that’s too shy to come clean, hmm?”

“You’re always so busy, I didn’t wanna say anythin’,” Mika grumbles, pouting as he slouches forward, his posture definitely too boyish for a dress like this. “And...and I thought...” He gnaws on his lower lip, glancing aside. “I thought you only would make dresses for Nazuna-nii, never for someone like me.”

“Stand up,” Shu orders, because he needs to think for a moment before responding, and takes the opportunity to work on the rest of the buttons, then the strings of the corset. “I...have made them for him. You...can see that.” He flaps a hand at the golden gown, gathering dust on his dressform, never to be worn. His throat locks up for a moment, eyes burning as he guides delicate buttons through their holes. “But you were both my beautiful dolls.”

How to make Mika understand? How to say what he means, and still be himself? Shu unties the knot of the corset strings, distressed. “Jealousy is the most ugly emotion, Mika. Don’t express such disgusting things when you’re wearing this.” Apparently, he still doesn’t have any kind words, though that’s never put Mika off before.

Mika exhales a long, full breath once the corset is loosened, more relieved than he thought he’d be to be released from it. “I’m not jealous,” he says. “Just statin’ a fact, y’know? But I won’t talk about it when I’m wearin’ this again, I promise.” He’d rather not talk about the other dress in the corner, anyway. In his very humble opinion, the one Shu made for him is a million times prettier.

Shu tugs up the corset over Mika’s head, taking it back to its drawer. He stops on the way back, staring at the golden gown, emotions flitting through him faster than he can name them. “It was never right,” he says softly. The frustrated nights up here number more than he can count, stitching, replacing, swapping out trims and hems and notions to try and make it correct, to try and make it measure up to the vision in his head.

The blue dress has never fought him. It had felt like giving up, the first time he’d started cutting sapphire silk instead of gold. It had felt like abandonment, stuffing a beloved doll into a storage trunk, never to be attended to again.

Shu’s knees hit the floor, though he doesn’t remember kneeling, and frustration, hot and bitter, prickles at his mind until he wrenches it back from the precipice that feels so familiar. He clears his throat, standing with some effort, and attempts to pull himself together. “It was never right,” he says again, and this time, it feels more cleansing.

Mika watches him worriedly for a second before carefully shrugging himself out of the dress the rest of the way, stepping out of it with care and lifting it off the floor. “This one’s good, though,” he murmurs, hesitantly handing it over. “I think it’s perfect. I mean, I know it’s not done yet, but when it is, I’ll wear it whenever you want. And anythin’ else you want me t’wear, I’ll wear that, too...”

Shu gives him a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t do much to reveal how he feels. “I’m taking that as permission to make you things you may not feel you’ve signed up for,” he warns, mentally sketching out what should really be worn under a gown like this. That thought leads him to remembering the rasp of Mika’s underwear under his hand, and more--

Face flushing, he turns aside, carefully placing the dress back on its form. “I suppose you can come up here whenever you like, now. Just...only touch the ones I give you permission to touch. This one. For now.”

“Mm, got it! I won’t touch anythin’ else, I promise.”

Mika hops forward, stretching up to hook his chin over Shu’s shoulder with a beaming smile. Shu did tell him to ask for something if he wanted it, so... “You could make me somethin’ pretty to wear underneath it...” he wheedles. “I dunno how cute I’d look, but I could try.”

“Silence, fool, stop spoiling my surprises for you!” Now his face feels entirely red, and he quickly deflects his embarrassment by storming out of the attic, calling shrilly over his shoulder, “And come down for dinner, it’s going to be overcooked because you distracted me!”

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about, I have noooo idea what you’re gonna make me next!” Mika calls after him, happily scooping up his school uniform and darting down the stairs after Shu. As far as he’s concerned, disobeying Shu ended only in good things, this time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: for the lead-up to this chapter, please check the other story in this collection, the Wataru/Eichi story "One Half of Me is Yours, The Other Half Yours," though all you need to know is that Wataru and Eichi are doin' it.

One week later, Eichi finally is resigned to not being able to stand up to Wataru’s enthusiasm, and gives up.

That’s how he stumbles into the infirmary with Yuzuru’s help, collapses onto one of the beds, and passes out to the sound of Yuzuru explaining, _no no, he doesn’t have to go to the hospital, he just needs to rest._

Eichi sleeps the sleep of the dead, and wakes up shivering, aching, and unhappily aware that he absolutely has some kind of a cold, at the very least. His head throbs, and he rolls slowly to the side, cracking opening his eyes, and comes face to face with the stare of a familiar, horrendous doll, seated upon the small table between the two infirmary beds.

_No. No. No no no no no, not right now._

“You’re never _actually_ sick,” he moodily croaks. “Get out.”

“Oh, mon Dieu, not again,” is the miserable reply. Itsuki Shu doesn’t even take off his eye mask or the bag of ice resting above his head. It’s half-melted by now, and he appears to have shifted away from it in his fits of blessed unconsciousness. “Aren’t you far too ill to be in the infirmary? This isn’t a place for the seriously sick, get out. The stench of you will keep me in here for another hour at least.”

“Don’t worry, Shu-kun! I’ll take over from here.”

“Non, Mademoiselle, I could never force you to talk to such a horrendous person.”

“Hush, Shu-kun, you’re too delicate for this. Tenshouin, if you have anything to say, you can speak to me.”

“The infirmary isn’t for _agoraphobes_ ,” Eichi snippily retorts as he huddles further underneath his blankets. “I’m not talking to your doll, Itsuki. I don’t even want to talk to you, so do us both a favor a-and—“

Obnoxious, when his lungs decide to do that _thing_ that they do, tightening up and making him wheeze mid-sentence, and then dissolve into a full-on coughing fit. Snatching up his inhaler—next to Mademoiselle, how disgusting—he quickly puts it to use, and sinks down shakily into the bed, clinging to it and glowering up at the ceiling as he wheezes. If there’s anyone he’d like to look infallible in front of, it would be this lunatic, but alas, here they are.

“You’ve gotten worse.” Maybe if he turns to face the wall instead of Tenshouin, it won’t feel awful to talk for himself, instead of relying on Mademoiselle. For strangers, it’s one thing, but with someone like Tenshouin...

“He’s looking at you like you’re _crazy_ , Shu-kun.”

“I know, Mademoiselle.” His voice is ragged and patchy, and his heart aches as if it’s been bruised in his chest. Tenshouin can’t be here, he can’t be _here_ , not in his _safe place_. It’s just like in first year, when the nurse had joked all the time about them being _infirmary buddies_ , competing for the best grades while shooting each other death glares across the borrowed sheets. He’d heard them remark on it in hushed words when they’d looked like they were sleeping-- _‘Isn’t it odd, how of the top two students in the year, one has a strong mind and weak body, and the other has a strong body and weak mind?’_

“Why not just jump out the window and save some medicine for the rest of the world?”

“Shuu-kun, that isn’t very nice. Sorry, Tenshouin...he just hates you so much, I’m not sure I can get him to talk nicely to you. He blames you for most of his problems, you know.”

“I’m _not_ talking to your doll, Itsuki,” Eichi repeats, exasperated, though even that attempt at talking makes his chest tighten anew. This isn’t his usual illness, he begrudgingly realizes. Coupled with exhaustion and having long-reached his pain threshold, it feels a million times worse, and huddling around his inhaler just makes him angry. “What sent you in here this time?” he mutters, weakly pawing his glass of water closer as well, and making sure not to touch the damned doll in the process. He does not want to hear Itsuki Shu’s _shrieking_ right now. “Are you finally scared of the air around you, too?”

“Shu-kun got--”

“Hush, Mademoiselle, he doesn’t want to hear from you.”

“But he asked a question, it’s rude to ignore him!”

“There’s no such thing as being rude to Tenshouin! Look at him, he’s pure evil.”

“...I dunno, Shu-kun. He looks pretty bad off. Sicker than usual. I bet he wouldn’t make fun of you for getting threatened and bullied by a second-year.”

The ice pack is back on his head. “Traitor. Fine, Tenshouin. I had an...altercation, which resulted in this, my current condition.”

“Ah.” Eichi doesn’t care, not really, but most things are better than silence and focusing on the too-familiar smell of the infirmary. “Whatever you did, you pr—“ He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose to stop himself from coughing yet _again,_ damn it. Is this punishment for being catty and rude? Perhaps it is, so it’s time to revise. “…Dare I ask _why_ you were, ah. Assaulted?”

This _does_ feel sort of familiar, Shu has to admit. How many times had they been confined here together, forced to speak to pass the brutal hours until the nurses deemed them well enough to return to class? He fiddles with the edge of the sheet, picking at imprecise machine stitching. “Misplaced protective instinct, I believe. One of my unit members...”

“Shu-kun, Valkyrie only has two members now.”

Shu’s heart hurts anew. “Kagehira, then. One of his friends took issue with my treatment of him. Preposterous. What does that failure need with friends?”

“Saying things like that is probably why they went after you,” Eichi murmurs, dropping his head unhappily down onto the meager little pillow at his disposal. “It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been accused of treating someone poorly.”

“The complaints of the vulgar common people have no effect on me,” Shu lies, closing his eyes again. “Why do you look like you took a trip through a meat grinder? I thought you were banned from strenuous activity.”

“Wataru exists. If vulgar common people have no effect on you, why are you in here?”

“You don’t deserve him,” Shu snaps, instead of answering that stupid question. “Wataru has always been too elevated for someone like you.”

“Ah, cutting right to the chase, are we?” Eichi has no desire to deny his involvement, and never has, especially if it irritates Itsuki Shu. That’s poor behavior of him, but oh well. “Wataru is mine, and I’m not interested in what you think of that. I have yet to be accused of abusing him, at the very least.”

The panic starts to rise in Shu’s chest again, and he breathes as well as he can, trying to will down another attack after the last one had left him unconscious on the floor of the hallway. “I’m glad to see you’ve been reaping the rewards of attaching yourself to the coattails of someone as magnificent as he. You aren’t even close enough to being able to keep up with him, are you? You’ll kill yourself trying.”

“Dying in such a magnificent way sounds appealing.” Eichi shoves himself up onto an elbow, finally summoning the strength to grab his glass of water and actually drink it instead of just poking at the side of it and glaring at Shu’s doll. “When you talk about him like that, you sound jealous. That’s not attractive, especially when we all know he’s not to your taste.”

“I merely know him better than you do, and am reminding you of that,” Shu snaps. “No matter what you achieve, all your crowning jewels are secondhand from me--victory in the DreamFes, Wataru at your side--it was all mine first, _Tenshouin_.”

The smile Eichi offers him is bored at best. “Itsuki. I don’t care. He’s in my ensemble, in my bed, and we’re winning everything again.” He flaps a hand dismissively as he flops onto his back again, stifling a weak, raspy cough. “Meanwhile, you’re being accosted by second years.”

“Who should mind their manners and learn to respect their betters!”

“Shu-kun, he was just worried about Mika-chan. It was a pretty big hickey...”

“That’s still none of his concern! He had no right to push me into the wall! It’s just like those abominable brutes from kindergarten all over again...”

Eichi’s eyebrows slowly raise. “Ah. So you’ve not only been accused of abusing him, but you’ve actually been enjoying his intimate company. What a fascinating relationship.”

Shu’s voice cuts sharply through the infirmary, and he sits up, back ramrod-straight. Even now, his hands don’t quiver, trained to absolute immobility for his sewing. “You don’t know anything about it! He’s--he’s not like that! Keep your mouth off of him!”

“Shu-kun, the nurse is going to--”

“I don’t care!”

“So _explain it_ , then. God, anything to make you lower your voice, I have such a headache,” Eichi groans, turning away and twisting himself into a ball as he hides underneath his pillow. “You gave him a hickey, _then_ what.” The school nurse is going to know too much about their sex lives by the end of this day.

“Then...” The door is locked, at least, and the lights are off. Slowly, he subsides back onto the pillow. “I thought I was more careful. His skin is so delicate--of course, he _is_ one of mine, I should know him better, I should have been more careful.”

“Shu-kun really likes Mika-chan a lot, you know? Mika-chan is like his safe person. Sometimes he loses his temper, but Mika-chan is always real generous about it. He’s a good, sweet person, you know, President-san?”

“Tenshouin doesn’t care, Mademoiselle.”

This is not a conversation Eichi would have planned to have today, not in the slightest, and it isn’t one he’ll ever care to repeat. Needs must when they’re essentially captives together, so here they are. “This might come as a surprise to you, with your limited experience,” he wearily says, “but some people enjoy receiving hickeys. Did he _say_ he hated it?”

This feels disgustingly familiar, such as when they’d trade notes for class in their first year, both of them hating it. “...No,” Shu admits. If anything, Mika had deliberately worn a low-necked shirt. “I thought...he was showing it off to remind me how careless I’d been.”

“You literally _just_ said that he’s a good, sweet person and that he’s very generous with you and your horrible personality.”

“Don’t put Mademoiselle’s words in my mouth. I just...” Mika had clung to him, breathed his name, as if he’s still something _worthy_. “You wouldn’t understand. Wataru isn’t human, you couldn’t hurt him if you tried.”

Arguing with the mentally unwell isn’t his forte, so Eichi doesn’t bother. “You’re being ridiculous. Wataru has a surprisingly delicate nature. Ah, but I forgot, you know him _so_ much better than I do, don’t you?”

“Well enough that he called me asking for tips on getting over his stage fright to let you in his pants along with the flock of geese he keeps in there,” Shu confirms. “You fluster him, certainly, but you could never touch the darkness he carries. That’s the burden of true genius.”

Eichi’s eyes roll, and he turns his back again, one hand still wrapped firmly around his inhaler. “I just think it’s funny that you’re criticizing my relationship on such a level when I’ve been nothing but open and understanding about yours, but all right. That’s just how you are, I understand.”

Shu huffs, reaching out to touch the ruffles at the bottom of Mademoiselle’s gown. “I’m _saying_ that you won’t damage him if you tell him to leave you alone while you recover. Not that I want you to be well, but Wataru is fond of you, for some reason, and he’d be inconsolable if he put you in the hospital. Honestly, I shouldn’t have to explain myself, but I suppose you are this simple.”

“You literally didn’t say anything close to that, but all right. I’ll just pretend you did, for both of our sakes.” Eichi huffs, shutting his eyes irritably. “All _I_ have been saying is that I seriously doubt your little pet takes offense at having your hickeys all over his neck. Calm down and let him enjoy it.”

“I don’t understand how anyone can enjoy being marred and injured.” The words are supposed to be sharp, but they sounds soft to his own ears, the kind of thing Mademoiselle would usually be sweet enough to say for him. “Even a small imperfection--He fears being stared at almost as much as I do, but to proudly walk around that way...why?”

“Because it’s the kind of thing people will stare at, but never remark on, because _they_ are more embarrassed about it than he is.” Eichi stifles another cough into his pillow, thumping his legs on the bed irritably. “Because to him, it’s a mark of pride.” _Honestly stop being stupid about this for five seconds_ is on the tip of his tongue, too, but that’s more talking, and that just seems to cause problems.

Shu stares at the ceiling, trying to comprehend it. He can imagine Mika being proud to be in Valkyrie, proud to perform with him, and he _should_. At least, he should have, back when Valkyrie was still worth something. But to be proud...to be with him, romantically? That will take more thought, and likely another deep conversation with Mademoiselle.

Fine, this deserves some sort of compensation, though he’ll pretend later that it never happened, and he would never admit that it was with _Tenshouin_. “Shall I have a talk with Wataru for you? I’ll remind him of the physical limits of humans. I assume he still has that embarrassing amount of stamina.”

“What do you know about his stamina? He was a virgin when we—oh, you just mean in general. Well. Yes, he has a lot of it.” Eichi huffs, annoyed that he’s begrudgingly considering the offer. Even if he doesn’t want to _go_ there, perhaps it will continue to…soften the edges of things. Turning over a new leaf is _difficult._ “If you see him, you may say something about it, but it isn’t entirely necssary.” He pauses, and then tiredly adds, “My own preferences probably mean nothing to you, and for good reason, but it’s my opinion that if he isn’t hiding whatever marks you leave on him, he _must_ be enjoying it. He’s bolder than Wataru and I, if you want a comparison.” Wataru sweating off layers of makeup has now become legendary, and the bruises on his thighs are a conversation piece…but they still don’t _parade it around._

“Or more foolish,” Shu says softly, almost fondly, if someone who knew him well were to hear the tone. It’s impossible to actually let his guard down around Tenshouin, of course. The man is singlehandedly responsible for murdering him, in every way that matters.

Still, if it’s for Wataru...

“I’ll make an effort to call Wataru,” he says with a sigh, and grabs for the cup-and-string phone by the bed.

“Why are all of you like that?” Eichi groans, flopping over onto his stomach to suffocate himself before he can start coughing again. “Don’t call him _now_ , not when I’m in here, it’s like a honing device, he’ll _find me._ ”

_I should. Just to serve you right._

In his mind, whenever he closes his eyes and Nito isn’t there, he sees Tenshouin’s smiling face, thanking him graciously with a steel glint in his eye. Shu tosses the cup violently to the side, feeling sick again. “Why don’t you go to the hospital? You sound terrible. I should demand a partition to avoid your germs. You don’t even wear a mask in public, it’s appalling.”

“If I wore a mask, it would be around as much as that damned doll of yours is,” Eichi snaps back. “Unlike you, I’d like to have a life, and perhaps not have people thinking I’m going to self-destruct at any moment.”

“And unlike you, I couldn’t care less what the unwashed masses think of me,” Shu replies airily. “You’re a hazard to those around you, with that immune system like Swiss cheese.”

“How am I a hazard to everyone else? I’m not contagious, everyone _else_ is contagious.” Eichi stifles another round of coughing into his pillow. “ _You_ are probably contagious. Your stupidity better not be. You honestly expect me to believe that you ‘don’t care what people think of you.’” Ah, yes, they always end up like this again, which is fine and familiar.

“I don’t care what people think of me!” Shu spits, grabbing at his thin pillow. “Ugh, would it kill them to invest in some proper Egyptian cotton with a thread count higher than the average IQ at this school?”

“You care what your little pet thinks of you,” Eichi airily tosses over. “And for once and only once, I will agree with you that the thread count here is abysmal. I want to die.”

“Die, then.” Shu flops facedown, longing for his white noise machine...and possibly the air conditioner, and Mika grabbing him around the waist to pull him close. “How are students supposed to recover in these conditions?”

“Bring it up at the next student council meeting.”

“I’d rather eat from Rei’s coffin ham refrigerator than willingly step foot into a student council meeting.”

“I belatedly realized that was in poor taste. Ah, well, my apologies. Egyptian cotton isn’t what the _real_ aristocracy opts for, anyway.”

“Perhaps the new money thinks differently,” Shu says with a sigh. This is an old, familiar point of contention between them, at least. “My family respects the classics.”

Oooh. _Oooooooh_. It’s so hard to bite his tongue and not throw out half a dozen catty quips in return. Being nice is no fun, but this is for _Wataru_. “At least treat your pet to satin. It’s the least you can do.”

“He’s privileged enough to share my bed instead of the cot in the spare room. Honestly, he wouldn’t know what to do with satin. It’s hard enough getting him used to sleeping off of the floor. He’d probably slip off, knowing his foolishness.”

“…But that sounds charming. Itsuki, it’s _typical_ to talk of one’s, ah, significant others _fondly_ instead of sounding annoyed, you know.”

“If I’d ever had the slightest desire in my entire existence to be typical, I’d thank you for that comment. Unfortunately, I am not so base nor vulgar.” Shu scowls around at the infirmary. “Would it _kill_ them to put a bakery nearby? A measly patisserie?”

“I’m starting to understand why another second year tried to punch you.”

“I’ve heard things about your penchant for scones! As usual, you have no room to judge me!”

“The difference is I have no desire for a bakery in the infirmary, or anywhere close to it. That sounds dreadful. The other difference is I don’t _live_ off of scones, and I think it would be cute if Wataru slid off of satin, so it seems, yet again, that I am—“ ‘Superior’ is the last word of that, but a hacking cough doesn’t quite let him go for the final blow.

“Dying, and not soon enough,” Shu finishes for him irritably, and grabs his jacket, then Mademoiselle. “Thank you for making what should have been a recuperative stay in the infirmary an intolerable one. It is a pleasure to know that some things never change. Terrible things.”

“ _Superior_ , I was going to say _superior,_ ” Eichi irritably rasps, thumping a hand in frustration against his bed. _Get back here and fight me!_ is on the tip of his tongue, but instead, he glowers after Shu, resentful of his soon-to-be freedom. “I’ve changed,” he adds defensively. “You’re the one that refuses to move on. When I—when that night happened, the least you could have done is picked yourself back up again and fought me.”

Shu freezes, in the process of slinging his bag over his shoulder. He stares at the awful bedspread for a moment--

_“They can’t even sing together!”_

_“I only came to see fine...”_

_“Was it all a recording?”_

_“Valkyrie? What a joke!”_

_“They sound so bad!”_

_“Isn’t Valkyrie a unit that used to be successful? No one has heard of them in a long time...”_

_“Get off the stage if you can’t sing or dance!”_

_“God, I’d kill myself if I was up there.”_

_“This sucks, I thought they were supposed to be good!”_

_“How embarrassing. Boo!”_

“That night didn’t _happen_ , Tenshouin,” he says, voice shaking. “Things _happen_ on accident. You--you ruined my life, on purpose, because you were so _jealous_. And now you alternate between being beaten on stage and dying in the hospital, and I couldn’t be happier.”

“I pulled the plug, but you were the reason there was a plug in the first place,” Eichi immediately shoots back, flopping himself down again without another glance in Shu’s direction. “Introduce yourselves as Valkyrie again soon so we can crush you with a live orchestra instead of a lousy recording.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Shu asks, rolling up his cuffs with something closer to determination than he’s felt in weeks--so at least he can give Tenshouin credit for that. “We had a live last week, and dominated. fine would do well to prepare.”

“You defeated Ra*bits,” Eichi replies with a roll of his eyes that Shu can’t see, but can definitely hear. “Talk to me when you crush a real unit and don’t make little boys cry.”

The first instinct Shu has is to curl around that flare of pain; he’d been the best, everyone had recognized his talent, the world had swirled in front of him, ripe fruit that he only had to pluck to savor. Tenshouin had ruined it all, forced him to become this broken, incapable, ruined wreck, this shell of a person. Every word drives the nails in deeper, until it’s agony in his mind and he feels his gorge rise.

And below it, somewhere deep, something he hasn’t felt for months sparks to life.

How had he forgotten that flame of competition, burning bright? That urge to dominate, to be the one climbing to the top over the wretched corpses of his enemies? To defeat not only the weak (Ra*bits are weak, it’s obvious, he’d done nothing but school a few impudent children playing on an adult’s playground), but the strongest as well, because his own skills were so surpassing?

“The next time fine wants to lose, challenge Valkyrie,” he says, shocked to hear his own words. “We will accept.”

“Shu-kun! Are you sure? Your dancing still isn’t--”

“Then we had better go and practice, Mademoiselle, non? Vite, vite!”

For the first time in over a year, there’s a new melody threading through the cacophony of his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

“Mika-chaaaan~! Don’t run away, wait up for me, okay?”

Narukami Arashi isn’t at all shy about grabbing Mika’s arm when the bell rings for lunch, tugging him back from the crowds. “You’ve been avoiding me~,” he sing-songs, planting Mika firmly in a desk chair. “I know you eat a bento, so why are you running to the cafeteria so fast, hmm?” A few of their classmates cast glances behind at them. Hopefully, they’ll gossip about this, so Mika can ride some of his popularity and people will think he’s harmlessly cute, instead of the weirdo with the arm covers that sorts through garbage and used to be part of a popular unit.

Mika’s hesitation to explain is palpable, and he fidgets, throwing a wary glance back to the crowds in question. It isn’t like he wants to go dive head-first into them, but he has a _mission._ “W-well…” he hedges, shifting again. “If I don’t go now, then I’ll miss my chance to get a few croissants for Oshi-san…they never have any left when the third years get there, and he never wants t’fight with the crowds, so…”

Arashi bites back a retort into a smile, then loops his arm through Mika’s instead, tugging him towards the cafeteria. “Fine, then we’ll go there together. You do better in crowds if you have someone with you, right? And I’m tall enough to see over them.”

The sigh of relief that Mika breathes is enough to form a small hurricane, and he clings tightly to Arashi’s arm. “Ahhh, you’re the _best,_ Naru-chan. I promise it won’t take long, they know me, y’know? I always try to come earlier, but…” _I lost track of time, thinking about Shu and how he’s seemed weird and mad at me since the other day._

“And he’ll be cross with you if you don’t do it right, hmm?” Arashi had been more than content enough to let Mika have his little crush before. It had seemed harmless, even if Itsuki seems like kind of the worst person in the world, and Mika had never seemed daunted by his rages and fits. Now, though, he’s been downcast for almost a week, and Arashi isn’t stupid enough to have missed the hickey on Mika’s neck that coincided.

“Eh?” Mika blinks up at him, then shakes his head firmly. “He doesn’t get mad about this kinda thing. I mean, I’m sure he’d be sad if I didn’t get him a croissant, but that’s just because he won’t eat anythin’ else during th’ day and that’d be bad.” Another student pushes into him, and Mika clings harder to Arashi. He hates crowds normally, but he’s been _trying_ to get better at it, and lately, he’s had a grip on it—but this past week, not so much. _I really am a failure, huh?_

He’s not going to say anything. No, absolutely not. He’s not going to--

“You know, I’ve only got one brother.” Apparently, he is. “He doesn’t take up too much space, and he knows to stay out of a girl’s room. So if you need somewhere to stay that isn’t with Itsuki, you’re not stuck going back to Kansai.”

“…Umm…I mean, thanks, Naru-chan, but I don’t need another place to stay?” Maybe he’s just not following along. When did the conversation head in that direction? “Oshi-san’s…he’s a lot sometimes, but he doesn’t _mean_ to be, not really. Ah, there’s only a couple left, hold on—“

He releases Arashi’s arm, darting away to the counter no matter how diving through the crowd makes his heart leap up into his throat. He fumbles for his change a couple of times, miscounting twice, but comes away successful, with a little white bag clutched in his hand. “Okay, mission accomplished! Sorry for makin’ you come in here, Naru-chan.”

“It’s fine, I like it here. But come back to the classroom so we can talk privately, hmm?” It’s when they’re back in the classroom that he hops up on the desk, sitting in front of Mika, chin cradled in his hands. “So? I’m a little hurt you didn’t tell me when things changed, Mika-chan. I’d tell you if things ever got heated up between me and Kunugi-sensei. We girls have to stick together, right?”

Mika immediately feels his face flushing hot, and he shrugs awkwardly, glancing aside. “I’m not a girl,” he mumbles in half-hearted protest, because it always sounds so harmless coming out of Arashi’s mouth. “I…I didn’t tell ya because I thought…I dunno. I don’t think much has changed, I guess.”

Considering Shu won’t talk about it, barely wants to touch him, barely seems to want to look at him, Mika is pretty sure things have gotten _worse_ , and he has no idea how to fix it.

“Except that you used to have the cutest smile,” Arashi prods, and flicks a piece of rice at Mika. “And now you’re being troublesome by not even telling me things. Ahh, I don’t like it when my friends are in trouble, you know.” Is now the time to tell Mika he’d had a little ‘talk’ with Itsuki, warning him about what would happen if he kept messing with Mika’s feelings? Nah, that’s not something he needs to know about. “If he’s bothering you and making you do things you don’t want to, Big Sister will always help.”

Mika’s head tilts nearly entirely sideways. “…Oshi-san’s not makin’ me do anythin’ I don’t wanna do. If anything, I’m the one making _him_ do stuff,” he laments, flopping slowly back into his chair. “I ruin everything, and now he doesn’t even wanna look at me.”

Ooh. That’s juicy...and not at all what he’d expected. “Hmm. I thought you were in a funk because he forced you and wasn’t gentle, Mika-chan.” Whoops. Perhaps he shouldn’t have slammed the wall next to Itsuki’s head so hard, though it had felt rather satisfying to see him pass out from fright in the hallway, his doll clutched to his chest.

“W-what?!” Mika jerks upright again, his eyes wide. “No, Oshi-san would never do anythin’ like that! I-if anything, he was too gentle, and he wouldn’t even let me do anything for him…” Slowly, he slumps again, his expression becoming more sulky by the minute. “I shouldn’t’ve asked. It was my fault in th’ first place, I went and tried on all that pretty stuff and then he got upset about it and even if he said it was for me I bet he was lyin’ to make me feel better about Nazuna-nii…no one would ever make me somethin’ that pretty…”

This is a bit more than Arashi had expected, and to be honest, Arashi has a lot less confidence in his ability to give advice to relationships that have already _started_ rather than beautiful, tragically unrequited love (his specialty). “He made you pretty things to wear? Ahh, I’ve heard about how he is with Nazuna-sempai. But he doesn’t live with Itsuki, right? So you’re still ahead there?” Right? For all he knows all of Valkyrie has a weird sex cult house. They certainly seem the most like the type, though he’d floated the idea before and Ritsu had not been receptive to the concept.

Mika lets out a groan that sounds like a cat dying, and slowly slinks further down into his chair. “I _guess_. But now he’s all _weird_ with me and doesn’t wanna look at me and I don’t know what I _did._ I jus’ thought I was makin’ him happy but now I’m pretty sure it’s because I saw th’ dress before it was ready, or messed it up, or made him feel bad about it _somehow_ , I dunno…Naru-chan, I wanna die…”

Arashi reaches over, patting Mika’s head. “There, there. Ah, your hair is so soft, that’s nice. Right, well, we’ll come up with a plan of attack. The first thing you should--”

“Kagehira! You’d better be in here--am I meant to be the only one in the handicrafts club?” Itsuki Shu’s voice echoes through the hallways, a moment before the door to Classroom 2B opens. His face is flushed, though his eyes go wide at the sight of Arashi perched above Mika.

“Ah! Shu-kun, it’s the boy that bullied you earlier!”

Mika immediately feels himself start to sweat. That’s not cute, but he’s got a mission still, and he stumbles out of his seat, fumbling with the hem of his shirt in the process of grabbing the bag of croissants he bought for Shu. “S-s-sorry, Oshi-san! I forgot, I got distracted, b-but I got your lunch, so please eat it!!”

Arashi hops off the desk and to the floor, arms swinging. “Ah, well, I’ll leave you to your hard-won croissants. He worked hard to get you those, you know.” His eyes glint slightly as he looks at Itsuki, who, he’s pleased to see, backs up a little. Good. “Be safe, Mika-chan! Call Big Sister if you need me!”

When the door shuts, Shu puts a hand to his chest, calming his racing heart. “A croissant...would be lovely, Mika,” he manages, trying to recall the motivation he’d felt earlier and not just hightail it back to the infirmary.

Unthinkingly, Mika pulls out one of the croissants to pass it over to Shu. “Sorry,” he defeatedly says. “I’ve been messin’ up a lot lately, I know. But at least I got your croissants.”

Shu takes a bite, and feels the unaccustomed prickling of guilt in his stomach.

“Talk to him, Shu-kun,” Mademoiselle urges. “Sorry, Mika-chan, he’s being pouty. He’s not mad at you, you know.”

The croissant is buttery, flaky, and light--Mika had gotten one of the first batch. “Mademoiselle is correct,” he says quietly, looking anywhere but at Mika. “I fear I’ve been...misunderstood. I’ve been dreadfully angry with myself for a few days.”

Mika flops back down into his chair, shaking his head. “You’re being awfully nice, Oshi-san, but you don’t have t’say stuff like that. I know I really freaked you out when I went and tried on those dresses, and…y-yeah, that’s it, I guess.” The hickey on his neck has mostly faded now, but he lifts a hand to rub at it distractedly. “I must’ve made it weird for you. I’m sorry.”

Shu moves swiftly, taking Mika’s hand and moving it to brush his fingertips over the unsightly bruise on Mika’s neck. It’s nearly faded now, but the marred flesh still serves as a reminder, makes his stomach churn. “I am usually very careful,” he says, voice bitter at himself, the light brush of his fingertips so gentle it’s hardly felt. “I...lost control. I should be better than this. It was unforgivable.”

“…Eh?” Mika stares up at him, confusion clear on his face. “Oshi-san…what’re you talkin’ about? I…um…y’know I _like_ marks like that, right…?”

“When I tell you not to tell me unnecessary things, Kagehira, don’t you think that means you _should_ tell me necessary things?” Shu’s voice is shrill, and he folds his arms in a huff, arranging Mademoiselle’s skirts. “I’ve always been careful in playing with my dolls. Discovering that I am apparently capable of making such errors...”

“He’s kinda scared to touch you, Mika-chan,” Mademoiselle confides, when Shu can’t go on. She doesn’t talk to Mika much, even if it would be more convenient. “Because you’re special to him, you know?”

“I thought it might gross you out.” Mika scoots back nervously, drawing a knee up to his chest. “I thought…I thought I was doin’ something wrong, because when I wanted to touch you, you wouldn’t let me. I mean, you don’t have to let me, I know that, but I’d do stuff, whatever you wanted.” He swallows hard, looking up through his bangs to try and catch Shu’s eyes. “Oshi-san, I _know_ you won’t hurt me.”

_Why do you put up with me?_

Shu has wondered some variation of it for a long time, but has never been able to find a satisfactory answer. Mika is the only one that still sees something worthy in him, as an idol, as a _person_ , and it’s...overwhelming. This, however, might not be overwhelming in the worst way.

Without thinking too much about it, he jerks forward, sealing his lips to Mika’s, grabbing for his hand to squeeze it gently. In his other hand, Mademoiselle tactfully turns away. “Perhaps...I should put myself in your care in these matters, Mika. You seem to be more competent than I, in this.”

Mika blinks rapidly, his cheeks flushing even as he clutches tightly to Shu’s hand. “I…I really don’t know nothin’, but I’m tryin’,” he says with a nervous laugh. “I jus’ wanna make you happy, and for you to smile when you’re around me, that’s all. I really thought you were upset with me, and that felt like I was gonna die.”

“Don’t do things that end up so stressful for both of us,” Shu lectures softly, resting his forehead against Mika’s. “I depend on your idiot’s tolerance of my moods and whims. Without that, it’s just me and Mademoiselle.” _Don’t leave me. You’re the only one left._ “What kind of disobedient doll would you be then?”

Mika bites his lip, nodding carefully and refusing to release Shu’s hand. “Oshi-san,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna say something that might get you upset, okay? But I gotta.” He sucks in a slow breath. “I’m not a doll. I’m not even good at pretendin’ to be one. You can dress me up however you want and I’ll try to be pretty like a doll, but I _really_ suck at being an actual doll.”

“Yes, Mika, I’m well aware of your failings,” Shu says fondly, setting Mademoiselle on the desk and tucking a strand of hair behind Mika’s ear. “I...” He looks away, unable to meet the honesty in that gaze. “I will continue to refer to you however I choose, of course.”

“Jus’ so long as you _know_ ,” Mika insists, grabbing at Shu’s hand again. “‘Cuz I don’t wanna…I don’t wanna disappoint you. But I _really_ wanna be able to touch you when we’re doin’ stuff, Shu, and dolls don’t do that, and I think that’s why you got weirded out last time, s-so I wanna—I just wanna make sure you know. So then I can touch you.”

“Fine, fine!” How does Mika always manage to make him capitulate? It had been just the same with the Live against Ra*bits--he’d looked up with those shining mismatched eyes, urgent and so full of _belief_ , and Shu is so weak to him, somehow. “Do as you like, I suppose!”

It isn’t as if he hadn’t wanted to perform the Live. It isn’t as if he doesn’t _want_ Mika’s hands on him. It’s his own narcissism, his own insecurities that prevent him from accepting the offers that lure him so. With anyone else, he’d need to rely on Mademoiselle to make the difficult decisions. Why doesn’t she ever talk as much when Mika is here, forcing him to acquiesce in his own voice?

Mika beams, bringing Shu’s hand to his lips to plant a kiss upon it before stuffing the other croissant into it instantly. “First things first, finish your lunch, Oshi-san. You gotta stay healthy so we can win everything together again!”

“Of course.” It’s easier to say things like that when he has a croissant, which he savors with his eyes half-closed. “Ah...your ambitions for the rest of the evening may have to be postponed until long after dark, Mika. I hope you’re in good condition. I... _may_ have challenged fine to a Live in the near future. Needless to say, we have a long and grueling practice ahead of us.”

“Good!” Mika’s eyes are shining, and he tries not to bounce up from his chair, and fails. “I’ll practice as long as y’want, Oshi-san! Ahhh, I can’t wait to beat them again, we’re gonna crush them. Oshi-saaan, we have to still work on our new outfits!”

“Leave the outfits to me, fool! Have I ever given you reason to believe I cannot make all of Valkyrie’s outfits at my own expense? You just focus on your singing and dancing, I shall not be tolerant of mistakes!” Good lord, Mika looking so fired up drags him forcibly into such an emotional state himself. “I’ve already booked the practice room, so you’ll need to hand over the money from working your after-school jobs. Bring your heeled boots to practice.”

“Ah, yeah, yeah, I got it! I’ve been practicing lots, I can’t wait to show you!” Mika grabs hold of Shu’s arm again, clinging as he beams up at him. “I’ve gotten better at high-heels. I’ve been practicin’ that, too, heh.”

The door to the classroom opens, then closes swiftly enough that Shu doesn’t get a glimpse of the person behind it. “Hm, someone is afraid to infiltrate the practice of the soon-to-be-feared-once-more Valkyrie, hah! We’ll make them all respect us once more, Mika. Never bow, never concede, never acquiesce. Ah, I’m feeling in better condition than in months.” He lifts Mademoiselle, then brushes a kiss to Mika’s cheek.

Mika glances at the door, then sure that no one’s going to open it again, takes a risk in grabbing Shu by the frills of his shirt, and hauls him down into a _proper_ kiss. “I’ll practice all day if you want, Oshi-san,” he breathes. “We’re always gonna be the best.”

Shu’s hands flutter for a moment, in sudden (enthusiastic) distress. “Kagehira, you fool! You miserable mistake!” He presses the back of his hand to his forehead, aghast. “How am I supposed to compose our next song and sit through my next few classes now, when all I want to do is spend time with you? You’ll take full responsibility for this later, I swear it!”

“We could skip class,” Mika unhelpfully, but sweetly suggests. “And be bad, and sit in our practice room and make out—“

“Shu-kun, you’re blushing a _lot_. Ehh, are you actually considering skipping class?”

“Of course not! You see, Kagehira? You’ve put bad ideas in Mademoiselle’s head!” And with a last hungry, needy kiss to Mika’s sweet mouth, Shu sweeps out of the room, flushed red to the tips of his ears. “Be at practice promptly! Don’t make me come find you, or you will not enjoy it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I'm not trying to make a statement about Arashi's gender or anything and fully support anyone who wants to use she/her pronouns!! All I'll say is that for the purposes of this fic I'm using he/him pronouns, given that to me personally it just seems like Arashi is embracing the Japanese "onee character culture," so I'm using these pronouns, but again, it's not meant to be a statement of any kind!


	6. Chapter 6

**To: Naru-chan**

**Subject: HHHHELP??**

**Hahahaaaaa sorry about earlier but now I need help!!! i thought?? i had ideas but i don’t think sso. oshi-san really does like me and kissed me and everything?? you ahve experience right? i just wanna be perfect ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄** ⌓ **˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚**

 

In retrospect, sending such a frantic text was probably not necessary, but the longer Mika sits and thinks during class about _what might happen after practice_ , the more nervous he gets. His only hope is Arashi, which is why he clings to his phone uncertainly even when he finishes his afternoon job of sorting trash, peering down at it every few seconds.

Arashi is busy, obviously, which is why Mika hurries to pay off their practice room before the time limit expires, feeling no small amount of satisfaction in that. He lingers after that, going through his bag and staring down the pair of heeled boots that he knows Shu wants him to wear, regarding them with a hefty degree of wariness. Maybe Arashi has tips for these, too. Arashi’s a girl for _real_. He just likes wearing dresses, that’s a lot different.

“You’re early.”

Shu’s voice is surprised, but pleased, and he shuts the door behind himself, locking it to thwart any prying, spying eyes. Mademoiselle is also wearing her practice clothes, a loose flowing gown with a flowing embroidered _M_ on the lower part of the skirt in colors that match Shu’s own practice clothes. This part, he admits, he’s neglected to a horrific degree. Mademoiselle takes a seat on her practice pouf, and Shu loads his music player into the sound system. “The boots are perfect, ah, yes, I can see the steps already. Don’t think I’ll go soft on you just because you’re enjoying a favored place in my affections,” he warns, plucking familiarly at Mika’s clothes, tugging them into place.

 _Thwarted!_ He might have practiced a _lot_ lately, but that doesn’t mean he’s perfect, and it makes Mika immediately nervous. _Dang it, Naru-chan._ “I’d never want you t’go soft on me, Oshi-san,” he admits all the same, letting Shu pick and preen at him and his clothes all he wants. “I don’t wanna disappoint you. I brought another croissant, just in case you get hungry, by the way.”

“Yes, yes, you’re always fussing over me,” Shu mutters, fussing over Mika to a ridiculous extent, fixing his shirt, his cuffs, his hair. “Leave it by Mademoiselle, I’ll eat it when we take a break. I confess, I’m much hungrier than usual today.” Without quite meaning to, he touches Mika softly on the chin, then the nose, then straightens up, switching on the music. “You remember the warm-up routine, I assume? Or has it flown out of your brain completely?” His own legs nearly tremble with nervous energy--when is the last time he’d gone through a full Valkyrie-style practice?--as he takes the floor, head down, shoulders loose, legs slightly parted. “Keep up.”

 _Keep up,_ said like it’s so easy. Mika has always felt like the odd one out of Valkyrie, the one that never _can_ keep up, because when it was the three of them, he was the one that was always scolded and put to the side, while Nito was perfect, and Shu was _more_ than perfect.

Which is why it’s kind of weird when he can keep up, and actually ends up far less out of breath by the end of Shu’s nitpicking and lecturing. The heels are the worst, though. He doesn’t miss a step in them, but his feet _hurt_ , and when Shu finally gives him a moment’s reprieve to stuff his croissant down his throat, Mika flops onto the ground, legs splayed and a bottle of water pressed to his forehead as he checks his phone.

 

**To: Mika-chan**

**☆⌒** **(** ≧▽ **° )**

**HIYA sorry was C= C= C= C=┌(** **｀ー** **´)┘ That’s good, right???? NEE-CHAN IS SO HAPPY FOR YOU and tell your bf that im <(_ _)> if he asks heehee. u need condom??**

 

Mika _hopes_ his face isn’t turning as bright red as he fears.

 

**To: Naru-chan**

**D:**

**i??? was just gonna ask about how to walk in girl high heels omg naru-chan**

 

**To: Mika-chan**

**WHOOPSIES nee-chan misunderstood lol. heel-toe!! Just like regular shoes but save ur weight for the instep, spread ur toes. Ahhh im jealous, no one makes me pretty things or wants me to wear heels!!!** **｡：ﾟ** **(** **｡ﾉ** **ω** **＼｡** **)** **ﾟ･｡**

 

“Brass, I think.” Shu, for his part, is doing what he hopes is a game attempt not to look winded. He takes advantage of the break to sketch out costume ideas, absently wiping off croissant crumbs. “And leather. Ah, It’s been so long since I worked with leather, but it can’t be helped.” He casts a sideways look at Mika, flashing for a moment to a vision of Mika in a leather corset with brass buckles, standing at his side on stage. Ah. Perhaps when Valkyrie is back on top, and he can get away with letting his vision take center stage once again. As an auteur, he can get away with anything. “If your singing has improved as much as your stamina, perhaps I’ll...write you in a solo part. Not that you’re good enough yet, but by the time Tenshouin schedules a Live...”

 

**To: Naru-chan**

**uggghhhhhghhh i’m so bad at it why aren’t you here to help me??**

 

**………….also can u leave a condom in my locker just in case so i dont’ have to go buy any i think i’d die** **｡ﾟ･（** **>** **﹏** **<** **）･ﾟ｡**

 

“I can sing a solo part!” Mika hastens to reply, pausing to look up from his phone and rub at his sore ankles. “I’ll try real hard, and with your help, Oshi-san, I swear I’ll sound good.”

“Yes, you don’t need as much of a tune-up as I’d feared. Just a bit of oiling--you haven’t been rusting all this time, have you? Ah, or perhaps it’s merely my condition deteriorating to the point that even you can keep up with me. No, no, you’ve been trying hard, haven’t you?” Shu gives his head a fond pat, then nods at the phone. “Put it up, we have another hour left in here. We didn’t rent the room for your texting. On your feet, let’s see how many scales are still stuck in the cotton fluff of your head!”

 

**To: Mika-chan**

**Did it! Expecting to see you v sparkly 2morrow!!!** **☆** ***: .** **｡** **. o(** ≧▽≦ **)o .** **｡** **.:*** **☆**

 

**To: Naru-chan**

**you’re the beeeeeesssssstttt**

 

“I’m up, I’m up!” Mika hurriedly moves to comply, no matter how his feet twinge and his legs ache. Maybe he’s been practicing a lot, but practicing in heels…yeah, he needs to do that more to get used to it. “Oshi-saaan, wearing heels is hard, and now I’m definitely as tall as you and it’s weird. I could kabedon you and everything.”

“Tch.” Shu turns away, lips pressed primly together. “You’re so close to my height now. I’m planning on going for a matching look, though still suited for our individual gifts.” He hesitates, then adds, looking anywhere but at Mika, “And if you were to do such a thing, don’t slap the wall hard. It causes me a fright.”

“…Naru-chan says she’s sorry, by the way,” Mika sheepishly offers at that, trying not to look too pleased at the idea of a kabedon where he’s _taller_. Maybe high heels are pretty cool after all. “I don’t think they meant t’scare you so much—I think they were just bein’ protective…”

Shu folds his arms, then flips the music back on, channeling his humiliation and terror of earlier into anticipation, into something that will help him dance even slightly as well as he used to. “As if I require an apology from such a person. Though it would be appreciated if further incidents were...avoided. Perhaps conducted through paper correspondence.”

His tongue sticks on the next thing he wants to say, but fortunately, Mademoiselle is there to help him out. “Shu-kun isn’t upset that you have a friend who wants to protect you, Mika. He’s just kinda timid when it comes to being confronted by a scary person, you know?”

“That’s enough of that, Mademoiselle. Come, Mika. Five, six, seven, eight!”

Complaining about too much work never ends well, and it’s not like he _wants_ to complain, anyway. They’ve gotta make the most of the practice room, and Mika worked _hard_ for the money to pay for it. That’s why he ends up sweaty and extremely tired, swaying a little on his booted feet, and wanting nothing more than to kick them off and return to the world of being normal and shorter than Shu by a good margin.

…Exceeeept…

“…Hey, Oshi-san,” Mika hums, sidling over as he watches the sweat trickle down from Shu’s hairline, too, and the way he’s flushed, more winded than Mika is for a change. All the more reason to keep feeding him and helping him get back on his feet, then, but first things first…

He plants a hand directly against the wall next to Shu’s head, careful not to slam it down, and with the advance warning, hopefully Shu’s not too spooked. “You shoulda told me about how fun wearing heels was earlier.”

Shu’s heart rate usually quiets quickly after practice, but with Mika suddenly looming in front of him, looking far taller, stronger, and more capable than usual, it spikes again quickly. Even the loose practice clothes feel too warm, and his shoulders press back against the wall.

It isn’t a _bad_ feeling.

Hesitantly, one of Shu’s hands comes up to rest on Mika’s chest. He doesn’t look like a doll now--he looks like a tall young man, talented and fit and more than a match for him, none of which are things he’s used to thinking about Kagehira Mika. But like this...

“You...look nice up there,” he manages, fingers curling in the cheap cotton of Mika’s practice clothes, tugging him close. Mika, apparently, has ideas, and Shu finds himself rather amenable to this first one.

Mika hopes his heart doesn’t thud its way out of his chest, but it’s anyone’s guess at this point, especially when Shu tugs him in. It’s one thing to think about this whole thing, another thing to actually do it, and for a moment, Mika scrambles to remember what else he wanted to do when he’s, essentially, _in charge._

Until he figures it out, kissing sounds awfully nice.

Shu pulls him in, and Mika lurches forward to kiss him, thorough and deep. Stepping forward to be closer still is the best decision he’s had in awhile, especially when his thigh slips between Shu’s, and his hands come to plant on either side of Shu’s head.

_You can’t, I’m not in perfect condition, I’ll disappoint you, the last person who cares about me is going to--_

He can’t, he _can’t_ run away now, not when Mika is so enthusiastic, when he’s pressed up against him in a way that makes his pulse pound so much _lower_ than usual and actually _wants_ him. Mika’s kiss tastes like Pocari Sweat, and Shu’s hands come up, clutching at the back of Mika’s shirt, pulling him in close. Slowly, hesitantly, his feet shift apart, letting Mika’s thigh between his legs, a low whimper escaping through his nose.

Odd--he’d thought this would be more frightening. Instead, his breath stutters, he clutches harder, and his hips rut up, rubbing needy circles against Mika’s thigh like some kind of animal.

This is a _lot_ different than last time, but at least it serves to disintegrate every single worry that Mika had. _Does he only want me if I’m dressed like a girl? Am I not allowed to touch him ever? Is he gonna get mad if I’m the one that starts stuff, does he not really want me at all?_

Mika stifles a desperate little noise in the back of his throat, his fingers curling against the wall as he presses forward eagerly, letting his thigh press firmly between Shu’s legs when he arches up against him. The way he kisses is probably not to Shu’s liking—sloppy, too much tongue, not the delicacy that Shu always seems to impart upon him—but Mika can’t bring himself to care, not when Shu is hard against him.

A shaky exhale escapes through his nose, and Mika draws back, licking his lips, tasting where Shu just was before slinking down, dropping wordlessly to his knees. He grabs for the waistband of Shu’s workout clothes, glancing up only once through his bangs, wanting that last little bit of approval before he does what he’s been thinking about for…ugh, _so_ long now.

“Mon Dieu,” Shu breathes weakly, and clutches at the wall, glad that _he’s_ not the one in heels, not with how his knees want to buckle already. No, the wall is absurdly inferior to setting a hand on Mika’s silky hair, petting as much as he’s encouraging. With the other hand, he tugs down his shorts, letting them fall to his ankles, exposing everything to Mika’s hungry gaze.

_Is it because your eyes are mismatched? Is that why I can feel you look at me and not want to run away, when anyone else looking at me is enough to make me weak? Why is it you, that I’ve treated worse than anyone, that still wants me?_

“Please,” he breathes, because none of his blood is in his brain anymore, reminding him that for all his eccentricities, he’s far more human than he’d like to admit. “M-Mika--”

The hand in his hair is just as much encouragement as the plea from Shu’s lips, and Mika doesn’t hesitate. His fingers shake a little as they splay over Shu’s hips, bracing himself as much as he holds Shu in place when he presses his lips to the inside of one of those lean thighs, tasting pale skin and feeling the pound of his pulse hard and fast even there.

Of _course_ Shu’s cock is as beautiful as the rest of him, which is daunting—or it would be, if Mika weren’t so eager. His last bit of hesitation is to curl his fingers around the base of Shu’s cock, feeling that silky-soft skin and the heat of it against his palm, and to lean in, daring his first taste with a lap of his tongue.

It’s sweeter than he thought it would be, but still kind of watery and bitter, and it goes straight to his own cock, making him stifle a whimper into the back of his throat. Just that one taste makes Mika hungrier, and he wraps his lips around the head, his breath ragged as he feels Shu drip onto his tongue.

Shu claps a hand over his mouth, stifling what he’s sure are horrifically embarrassing noises--before he remembers that the paid practice rooms are soundproof by design. His hand drops, and both of them thread through Mika’s hair, seeking some kind of stability when it feels like Mika’s sucking his soul out.

Well, if it feels like this, maybe his soul deserves to be sucked out.

His breath comes in hurried, eager pants, toes curling as he groans, every part of him tingling and spasming already. Mika’s mouth is hot and wet and sinful, narrowing his focus, making him forget _everything_ but the slick drag of that tongue, of those soft lips. “Mika, Mika, God, don’t stop, please, don’t stop, I need--”

He’s never been so hard, leaking over Mika’s tongue, his heart thudding against his ribcage with every aching beat.

He’s gotta be doing _something_ right if Shu is making all of those noises, if he’s clinging to his hair like that. It’s the encouragement Mika needs, and he eagerly swallows more of Shu down, only stopping when he chokes, stifling a cough and taking it more slowly because he _needs_ to have Shu in his mouth.

He doesn’t stop until he can nuzzle against Shu’s belly, until Mika can feel him deep down his throat, and he shivers down to his toes, only drawing back to better taste Shu on his tongue again. Ahhh, he’s probably being too messy about this, but the way Shu throbs against his tongue with every bob of his head makes him drool, and he can’t _help_ it.

Shu makes the critical mistake of looking down at Mika with his cock deep in his throat, and lets out a whimper. He loses his focus instantly, voice spiking high and thready, then dropping suddenly low into a heartwrenching groan, rutting mindlessly against Mika’s face for a few heady, incredible seconds, spilling messy and wet into his mouth without warning. He can’t even fumble for words of an apology, because his knees are buckling, making him sag to the floor with his arms locked around Mika’s neck, pulling him close as he trembles and shivers.

His mind fumbles for a judgment--to tell him he’s behaved well, performed well, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “Perfect, Mika, perfect, _perfect_ , I c-can’t--”

Mika coughs into his own hand, peripherally aware that he’s made a mess of himself like this, but oh well. The taste of Shu is so _heady_ on his tongue, way stronger than just the stuff that dripped on his tongue at first, and it makes him whimper, shaky and overstimulated as he butts his head against Shu’s shoulder with a ragged exhale.

“W-was it that good?” he whispers hoarsely, rubbing up close and clinging to Shu’s shirt with a happy, shivery little sigh. “Nnn…Shuuuu…you taste so goood, I wanna do it again…”

“I...I don’t have the words,” Shu admits helplessly. Not in Japanese, at least, though French is probably far more suitable for this kind of thing, though damned if he can remember any French right now. He can barely remember his own name, every part of his body singing, sweat cooling on his skin as his heart rate returns to normal. “Ah, you can...we can keep...”

He buries his face in Mika’s hair. “If you have more ideas,” he manages finally. “I’m...amenable.”

Mika doesn’t have a ton of ideas, truthfully, but Shu saying that makes him want to have at least half a dozen more. “I’ll think of stuff,” he breathes, snuggling close and pawing at Shu’s chest. “Shu…Shu, you’re the best, I’ll do that whenever you want.”

There’s the impulse to give Mika a deep kiss, but Shu balks at that, knowing where his mouth has so recently been. Instead, he presses his lips to that soft, wavy hair. “We’re almost out of time in here. Ah, how lewd of us. I wonder how many units have used these rooms for such purposes? They are soundproof, and it’s an all-boys school, after all...”

“Hopefully no one we don’t like,” Mika hums, prying himself away with great effort. He starts to climb to his feet, but his knees buckle, and he flops right back down, stretching out on the floor. “Ahh…I’ll jus’ live here now, my feet hurt so much…”

Shu bends, unlacing the boots and pulling them off of Mika’s feet. “You wore them for longer than I expected, for your first time practicing in them. That isn’t an invitation to slack off in other practices, you know, but...you did well, today. Better than I, I fear.”

It’s hard to feel less than good about the practice when his blood is still thrumming, and Shu hums a little to himself as he picks himself off the floor, tugging up his shorts.

Mika wiggles his toes half-heartedly. “You’re always perfect, Oshi-san,” he murmurs, deciding to lie on the floor for a little while longer and watch Shu through his lashes. “I’m not gonna slack off, I promise, but you gotta eat more, then you’ll be back in fightin’ shape again. I’ll keep bringing you croissants.”

Shu pauses for a moment, then sighs. “No, no, that’s no good. One croissant per day, that’s the ticket. I’ll start preparing nutritious meals for myself as well. If I want Valkyrie to stand on top again, there’s no getting around the fact that this paltry human form requires protein, hmm?”

“Shu-kun, you’ve got more color in your cheeks than you have for a while.”

“Mademoiselle! Don’t tell me you were watching!”

“Hehehehe, I’m always watching, Shu-kun! Mika-chan is very talented, isn’t he? Yay, Mika-chan!”

“Mado-nee’s a bit of a pervert, ain’t she?” Mika laughs, slowly picking himself up off the ground. Minus those heels, he’s back to being shorter again, which is for the best, or else they’ll just get _nothing_ done. “I’ll eat healthy with you, Oshi-san. If you make lists for me, I’ll do the shoppin’, it won’t be a big deal.”

“That is likely a good use of our time, with me cooking and you shopping,” Shu muses, tapping a finger against his chin as he gathers their things. Finally, he shoulders his bag, taking Mademoiselle in his other hand, and she turns to face Mika.

“You should bend him over next time, Mika-chin. I bet Shu-kun would like it.”

“That’s quite enough out of you, troublesome little doll!”

“Shu-kun would love it! He thinks about it all the--”

For the first time he remembers, Shu grabs Mademoiselle by the face, his cheeks burning red. “W-we should go, Mika! Carry my bags!”

“Got it~!” Armed with this _fun_ new bit of knowledge and spurred on by the height of his current successes, Mika cheerfully scoops up the bags in questions, stuffing his boots into his own and toeing his loafers on before trotting after Shu. He’s gonna _have_ to tell Arashi later—and swing by his locker on a day that he knows they don’t have extra practices planned.

 

**To: Mika-chan**

**?????????????????????????????????????????????? status report???????????????????? don’t make me drag it out of you again**

 

**To: Naru-chan**

**ohhhh my godddddd(** **♥** **ω** **♥** **) ~♪**

 

**To: Mika-chan**

**┬┴┬┴┤** **(** **･** **_** **├┬┴┬┴** **nee-chan REQUIRES details!!!!! do u need more condoms???**

 

**To: Naru-chan**

**I??? might later??? i didn’t get around to grabbing the ones you left sorry?? apparently i’m GREAT at blowjobs though and i got to kabedon him and EVERYTHING**

 

**To: Naru-chan**

**ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (((o(*** **ﾟ▽ﾟ** ***)o)))**

 

**To: Mika-chan**

**SCANDALOUS!!!!!! AHHH MY LITTLE SISTER IS ALL GROWN UP (/** **▽＼** ***)** **｡** **o** **○** **♡**

 

“Mika, put that thing on vibrate, your text tone is giving me a headache.”

“Sorry!” Mika squeaks, immediately hurrying to do as he’s told before Shu gets annoyed.

 

**To: Naru-chan**

**AND HE KEEPS CALLING ME MIKA IM GONNA DIE**

 

**To: Mika-chan**

**Mika-chan is in LOOOOOOVE!!!! (*˘** **︶** **˘*).** **｡** **.:*** **♡** **Go be a huge pervert for me! NEE-CHAN SERIOUSLY NEEDS DETAILS AT SCHOOL TOMORROW. Go get some!!! take advantage of your immoral living situation!!!** **٩** **(** **♡** **ε** **♡** **)** **۶**

Shu clears his throat slightly, then threads his fingers through Mika’s, paying no heed to the passersby on the street. “The costumes will be finished within the week, if I stick to my practice schedule,” he says, as if he isn’t holding another boy’s hand in the middle of a big city street. Then again, he’s carrying an antique doll in the other hand.

Mika’s face heats up immediately, and he shoves his phone into his pocket. He spares a wary glance around, pretty sure all eyes are suddenly on them, but it’s no more than usual, at least, and he relaxes somewhat, rocking back onto his heels. “You’re so fast. I wish I could sew as fast as you, but I’d mess up more than usual.”

“There’s no need for you to try and do something you’re incapable of,” Shu says, sighing as they turn onto the street where his house sits. “If I want to reap the reward of being the sole designer and director, it’s only natural that I take all of the work upon myself. You just worry about keeping me entertained while I work.”

An innocent bat of his eyelashes follows. “But if I’m too entertainin’, you’ll never get anything done.” Mika blames the mental screensaver of what Shu looks like when he orgasms for that kind of remark.

“F-fool! Give you an inch, and you take a mile!” Shu hesitates before his front door, neither wanting to let go of Mika’s hand or shift Mademoiselle. “Mika, take my key out of my pocket and let us in.”

Dutifully, Mika does as he’s told, feeling around for the key and humming as he opens the door. “You’re the only one that calls me by that name and doesn’t make me wanna die,” he cheerfully says. “I mean, Naru-chan, too, but girls are different.”

“I’ll call you as I like,” Shu says with a huff, looking around the house and pursing his lips. “I’m starting supper. Put water on for tea. And if...if there’s music you want to listen to, you know where the player is.” He’s never invited Mika to play his own music before while they’re at home, but, well. Certain activities deserve special consideration, after all.

“What if I just wanna sit and keep you company?” Mika immediately moves to turn the kettle on, and then plops down at the small kitchen table, swinging his feet. “I like watchin’ you cook.”

Shu turns away from Mika, busying himself with vegetables and a filet of salmon that someone has put in the refrigerator. One of his mother’s whims, no doubt; sometimes she has someone come by to “look in” on him, though they rarely come when he’s home. His hand closes around the handle of the chef’s knife, and for a wild moment it feels like a microphone again, like he’s ready to walk onto the stage again. “I want so much more for Valkyrie,” he says softly, staring at the cutting board, seeing the audience once more. “I want to be worthy of that acclaim and prestige again. I want to stand on that stage and be worthy of being your leader again.”

“You already are, y’know.” Mika plants his chin into his hands, watching Shu’s back. “I never thought y’weren’t. Stuff happens, Shu. We’re already awesome, we just gotta get our confidence back, yeah? What happened…that was really bad and scary, but we’re already recoverin’.”

“It was all my fault, you know.” An eggplant meets its demise under the sharp glint of steel. “Oh, I’ll blame Tenshouin and hate him until I die, but he never should have had that opportunity. I’ll never understand why you don’t blame me.”

Mika’s lips purse, and he scuffs his foot against the floor slowly. “‘cuz we all were in it together, and we all agreed to it, and so that’s that,” he says. He pauses, then adds against his better judgement, “Also, I think Nazuna-nii is way _too_ mean to you about it, so I gotta even it out.”

The next cut into an onion goes slightly sideways. Usually his hands are perfectly steady even in the worst situations, and Shu bites his lip.

“Mika-chan,” the high, sweet voice of Mademoiselle asks, “are you jealous of Nito-chan? Is it because Shu-kun was in love with him?”

“I’m not jealous of him,” Mika sulkily retorts. “Not even a little bit. Okay, I mean, I guess I was when I realized that dress was for him, but my dress is way prettier, so I got over that pretty fast.” He frowns, glancing down at the table. “I don’t think there’s much point in bein’ jealous over somethin’ that’s over. Besides, I love you back, so I figure I’ve already got a leg up.”

Shu throws the chopped vegetables into the simmering pot with more force than is truly necessary. The thought that he isn’t worthy of Mika isn’t one he enjoys, but it’s a persistent one lately. Well, then he’ll just have to be better. He’s been better before. With a reason like this, he can do it again. “I’m going to make you delicious meat and potatoes!” he half-shrieks. “So enjoy them and eat everything!”

Mika bolts upright, sharply nodding. “Uh—yeah! Of course, I’ll eat everythin’, Oshi-san! I love your cooking!!” Why are they yelling?!

“We can eat together!! God, you _fool_ , go pick out a movie!!!”

“Shu-kun, you’re being really loud and embarrassing.”

Shu lets out a shrill click of his tongue, then lifts Mademoiselle gently, striding from the room with long, purposeful strides to place her on her special chair in a glass case, locking it against marauders. “Mademoiselle has business to attend to elsewhere,” he announces, and promptly straddles Mika’s lap, cupping his face in his hands and kissing him suddenly. _It’s not fair to make you make every first move. You’ve been so brave, but you don’t have to keep being brave for me to want you._

If he were a better person, he could say things like this, but if there’s one thing Itsuki Shu knows, it’s his own limitations.

Well, no, if there’s one thing Itsuki Shu knows, it’s how to use tissue paper to make hand-sewing chiffon easier, but at least he has a passing familiarity with his own mental limitations.

Mika is thankful for being kissed, because that at least stifles the little sound of surprise that escapes from his tongue. Reflex makes him surge up to kiss back, and he automatically grabs at Shu’s back, pulling him down and closer. Whatever brought this on, he should do it again—no, that was a lot of underhanded sulkiness about Nito and stuff, so that couldn’t be it.

Shu makes a little distressed noise in his throat--but if his stamina and talent are good for anything, it should be good enough for _this_. It isn’t as if he hasn’t spent a significant amount of time touching the bodies of other boys, of course, but this is rather different from taking measurements or fitting costumes. That’s close enough to dressing a doll that he can do it easily, maybe too easily, but this...no, he can be better. He can do this right, too. Maybe no one else would think this has anything to do with work, but they don’t know how hard he works at being passingly normal every day.

He fumbles with words for a moment, but there’s no Mademoiselle now, no one to say the things that are too difficult for him to admit, so it’s just him, clutching at Mika’s shirt, bowing his head, admitting in a hushed, low tone, “I want you, Mika.”

“A-already?” Mika manages on a fluttery laugh, surprise coloring his tone more than he’d like, but….there’s no way he could be this lucky in one day, right? He squirms underneath Shu’s weight, petting a hand slowly down his back. “You mean, like…like the way y’mentioned earlier?” he whispers. “‘cuz Naru-chan got condoms for me, but I forgot ‘em—I m-mean, if you really want me to do it anyway, I will, but…”

“I want you to.” If he doesn’t look at Mika when he says it, it’s easier. He threads his fingers into Mika’s hair, is getting addicted to touching his hair, and rocks forward on his lap. “You know I don’t like anything that smells like medicine anyway. Don’t make me ask for it.” God, he’s in such a state that he probably _would_ ask for it, as humiliating as that sounds. One touch beneath the skirts, one blowjob in a practice room, and he’s become as insatiable as a regular teenage boy, how common.

Mika gulps, the sudden responsibility placed before him daunting…and incredibly exhilarating. “Okay,” he murmurs, shifting underneath Shu’s weight, and giving him the gentlest push imaginable. “We shouldn’t—not here. If we’re gonna do it, it should be on your bed, right?”

Shu stands, the tips of his ears tinged as pink as his hair, and nods once. “I...will take a shower,” he says, leaning over to turn the potatoes and meat down to a simmer. “And meet you in the bedroom in eleven minutes. I expect you to be, ah, ready.”

Mika nods rapidly, and tries not to fall out of his chair. “Yeah, I’ve got this. I’ll—yeah.”

At least he’s conscientious enough to wait until Shu leaves the room to pull out his phone and text in a panic.

 

**To: Naru-chan**

**AHHHHHHHH WE’RE GONNA DO IT IN LIKE 10 MINS I DON’T WANNA MESS UP GHHHGHGHGAJKDDKJASF**

 

**To: Mika-chan**

**OMG???? do you need to call me??? you got the condom rite????? MIKA-CHAN UR ABOUT TO BECOME A WOMAN!!!!!!!!!** **ヽ** **(** **♡** **‿** **♡** **)** **ノ**

 

**To: Naru-chan**

**IF I CALL U HE’LL TOTALLY HEAR IT AND GET EMBARRASSED THAT’S BAD**

 

**To: Naru-chan**

**AM I STILL GONNA BE THE GIRL IF IM PUTTING IT IN????? IS THT HOW IT WORKS BC MY NAME IS THAT WAY** **（** **>** **﹏** **<** **）**

 

**To: Mika-chan**

**OMG HE’S GONNA LET YOU PUT IT IN??? that’s not even FAIR u kno!!!!**

 

**To: Mika-chan**

**all jealousy aside lucky you!!!! if u dont hae condom make sure u have lube!!! otherwise he’ll bleed and he seems like the kind to scream so (** **⇀** **‸** **↼** **‶) b careful!!**

 

**To: Naru-chan**

**youre scarin me so much im gonna die**

 

**To: Mika-chan**

**Nee-chan is sorry!!! just make him all slippery itll go rite in!! u kno where it goes rite??**

 

**To: Mika-chan**

**~~~dont forget 2 reacharound if u want him 2 b happy, everyone is happy w/a handie!!! (** **･** **ω <)** **☆**

 

**To: Mika-chan**

**sry for spelling im trying to typefast!!!!**

The shower creaks off, pipes squeaking to a halt as the hot water ceases, and the sound of wet feet on the floor of the bathroom echoes in the silent room. A few moments later, the soft strains of French opera start playing, some of Shu’s favorite calming music threading through the downstairs. “Mika? Are you...all right for me to come in?”

Mika bolts upright, hurriedly shucking his shirt and throwing himself headlong into Shu’s room and right onto the bed. He does his best not to look as nervous as he definitely feels, because Arashi is _so_ not helpful, of _course_ he knows where it goes, but that’s not the point—

Fortunately, Shu is the kind of nighttime-prissy that keeps a bottle of lotion next to the bed, and Mika makes a quick note of that before shoving his phone underneath a pillow. “Y-yeah. You’re sure this is still okay?”

Shu holds himself up to his full height as he enters the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. There’s a small towel wrapped around his waist, but nothing else. The lingering thought that this would be easier with Mademoiselle here clashes with his certainty that this kind of thing is better without an audience. “Only if you want to,” he says quietly, eyes trailing over the room he’s lived in since infancy, about to be the set of a brand new stage of his life. “You don’t have to. I don’t know if that’s even--something you--if you’re the kind of man that...” Words! About! Sex! Are! Difficult!

“Um. Shu. I _definitely_ gave you a blowjob earlier, I think I’m the kinda guy that likes doing this kinda stuff,” Mika says with a nervous giggle, shoving himself upright onto the bed and reaching out for Shu. “I mean—I’ve never…done this kinda thing before, so I’m really sorry if I’m bad at it, but I promise I’ll try to make it feel good.”

Shu lets himself be tugged, kneeling on the bed, eyes intent, urgent as he crawls over to Mika. They’ve been in this same bed together so many times, but never quite like this, and it’s never felt anywhere close to this. “Even I am not so much a perfectionist that I require flawless performance the first time,” he says, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. “You don’t--mind, it being this way? I know I’m older, I’m your leader...”

“…Wouldn’t it be weirder the other way?” Mika hedges, gnawing on his lower lip as he runs his fingers down Shu’s damp back, along the line of his spine. His fingers trail down to the towel, gently pulling on it. “You told me you wanted it one way, so that’s good. You always tell me what t’do, anyway. I figure this is no different, heh.”

Even if they’d had their moment in the practice room earlier, it’s different from being entirely nude. Shu looks away when Mika takes the towel, then shifts closer, enough to straddle Mika’s hips, looking down into those singular, mismatched eyes. “Do you want me to direct the whole thing?” he asks, watching droplets of water drip from his hair to Mika’s face, wiping them gently away with the tips of his fingers. “Or...if you have your own ideas, I’ll be, ah, in your care.”

“So long as you were serious about th’ way you wanted it earlier…” Mika exhales a soft breath, and then rolls them, pinning Shu underneath his weight. He swallows, his face heating up from his own boldness, and he glances aside as he fumbles with tugging his own pants down. “I just wanna make sure you really enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

Shu sucks in a breath, turning his head to the side to muffle a squeak into the pillow. The feeling of Mika above him, pressing him down, does more for him than he’d like to admit, and his thighs fall apart as easy as a doll’s floppy limbs when the strings are cut. He reaches up, slinging his arms low around Mika’s waist, and tugs him mutely down. “It’s you and me,” he says quietly, eyes trailing down, raking hungrily over Mika’s chest, his abs, the little trail of hair dipping down to where it meets the rest of it, and the flushed hardening length of his cock. “We’re Valkyrie. How bad could we possibly be?”

At that, Mika laughs, and buries his face briefly into Shu’s neck. “I mean, fair enough,” he murmurs. It’s not like he doesn’t know Shu better than anyone (at least, he’s pretty sure of that) or that he hasn’t spent so much time around Shu that he can’t read him at the drop of a hat…

He huffs out a breath, kicking his pants aside entirely, and grabs for the lotion before he gets way too excited about it. “I know you wanna do it…the way you said,” he hesitantly begins, “b-but…is it okay if I…if we…stay like this when I finger you?” Oh god, how did he manage to get that out of his mouth? Mika’s face is hot, and his hands tremble. “I wanna see your face, just for a little…”

“Sh-shameless!” Shu throws an arm over his eyes, chest heaving. For a moment, it sounds very attractive to see Mika as nothing more than the defective doll he’d thought him, telling him not to move on his own, threatening to replace his eyes with glittering jewels. But then Mika wouldn’t be above him, saying things that make his skin prickle with arousal, doing things that make him spread his legs further in a way anyone else would laugh at.

“I...suppose,” he manages. God, but it’s for the best that Mika seems to have educated himself, since Shu knows he’d fumble his way through these steps to an abominable level. “Do it properly, at least.”

Mika has no choice but to nod, trying to will his hands to stop shaking when he’s now nervous _and_ aroused. “I’ll try,” he mumbles, lurching up to plant a kiss to Shu’s neck. “I promise, it’ll feel good.”

Reading up on this stuff and _doing it_ are two separate beasts, but if he doesn’t do it right, Shu will probably never let him again. That threat hovering over him makes him triple-check the amount of lotion he uses, but he’s _pretty_ sure it’s enough, and he hopes it’s not cold when he pets the inside of one of Shu’s thighs with his other hand, and carefully rubs one finger against that tight hole.

Shu is tense enough that it makes Mika’s breath hiccup when he eases that finger inside, and he bites his lip hard, twisting it inside to the second knuckle. “I…is that…” _Too much? Not good? Yell at me to stop if it’s horrible, anything you want._

Shu kicks his feet involuntarily, letting out a startled whine at the first intrusion into his body. The perfectionist part of him (a good 95% of his mental state on any given day) warns him that he should have practiced more by himself in the shower, rather than just enough to know that this is what he wants.

He takes a deep breath, then reaches down to grab his own knees, trying to keep himself from kicking Mika involuntarily. “This is--why I wanted to be the other way,” he mutters, squirming on that finger. It’s not _bad_ , just _unusual_ , different from when he’s done it himself, more exciting, more immediate. “Don’t want to kick you.”

 _You kick me sooo much harder at night._ Mika bites his tongue about that, and instead scoots closer, bracing a hand against one of Shu’s thighs as he carefully twists his hand and pulls it back, making it all the easier to get that second finger in. “You can kick me,” he murmurs instead, his breath coming a little faster. It’s worth getting kicked, it really is, especially if Shu keeps making those noises. “I really don’t mind.”

Shu isn’t expecting the way his voice drops, into a helpless groan that sounds so typically male it startles him. That’s an extremely secondary concern, however, to the burning stretch of Mika’s fingers inside of him, making room, opening him up like a--his mind says _finger puppet_ , but that’s not really an image he wants to associate with a feeling like this.

At least he’s flexible. That helps him pin his knees wide apart to the bed, restraining himself mostly with force of will from kicking abominably. No matter if Mika is a flesh and blood human and not a doll--Shu considers himself the kind of person who doesn’t injure his lover any more than his precious antiques, though this is the first time he’s been able to put that idea to the test.

He heaves a breath, another low groan when those wriggling fingers brush over something sweet and sparking-hot inside of him, making him bite his lip and squirm down, forgetting about hiding his face so he can clutch at Mika’s shoulders. “D-don’t stop, oh God, _sacre bleu_...”

Mika’s face lights up as he surges forward, eagerly fastening his mouth to Shu’s neck to leave an affectionate, sucking kiss as his fingers curl in that same direction again, pressing deep and stroking carefully. “Like that?” he breathes, shoving a hand between his own legs to wrap his fingers around his cock, squeezing to calm himself down, just a _little_ , because otherwise, he’s done for. Shu looks like he’s _really_ enjoying himself, and ruining that with his own pleasure seems like a huge mistake.

“It--it’s very unfair that you seem to be a prodigy in _this_ , of all things!”

Unfair, but certainly lucky for Shu. Mika’s fingers drag pleasure out of his body, making him writhe in a most inelegant way, so good that he forgets about how he looks, forgets about everything but Mika touching him so intimately that colors explode behind his eyelids. His breath hitches, and he gulps for air, fingers digging into Mika’s shoulders.

“Sorry, not sorry,” Mika distractedly murmurs, biting his lip as he draws back his hand, carefully, _carefully_ working to wriggle a third finger inside, and grabs for Shu’s hips, gently tugging him down onto them as he curls his fingers in deep. Shu is _so_ tight and trembly, and just feeling how he squeezes around his fingers makes his vision blur. “You l-look _so_ good, Shu—“

 _How do you know exactly how to do this?_ Shu wants to level some kind of accusation about private practice, but the words won’t come. All that comes out is more gasping, more helpless whimpers and moans, squeezing and spasming down on Mika’s fingers. Three feels like...quite a bit. It makes his skin tighten, sweat beading at the back of his hairline, his nipples tingling as his cock swells. He makes the glorious mistake of looking down, and has to bite his lip at the sight of Mika palming himself.

Inaccurately, he grabs at Mika’s cock, world narrowed to the burning, stretching ache of fulness inside of him, demanding more. “N-now. Don’t--don’t stop yourself.”

For anyone that says Shu isn’t good and merciful and generous, they’d be wrong. Mika hurriedly nods, shakily withdrawing his hand and fumbling for the lotion again, his hands not really working when Shu grabs at his cock like that. He’s amazed his mind still is, honestly. “Turn over,” he rasps, swallowing hard. “You still wanna do it like that, r-right?”

“Don’t care,” Shu mutters, yanking Mika down to kiss him hard, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing that matters. “I, I just want you, honestly.” He buries his face in Mika’s shoulder, the prickle of tears stinging his eyes from how overwhelming all of it is already, how close to his fantasies, but better, better at every turn than he’d dared to imagine, warm and strong and alive and for some stupid reason, wanting him back.

If it means he gets to keep kissing Shu and having Shu cling to him like that, there’s no _way_ Mika can make Shu turn over, not now. He grabs Shu’s face, kissing him again, his breath catching up in his chest when his cock rubs eagerly against the inside of Shu’s thigh.

Just touching himself long enough to put more lotion on his cock is torture, and it’s why Mika _can’t_ wait anymore. He bites and sucks at the side of Shu’s neck, not really thinking about whether or not he shouldn’t leave marks when his cock rubs against that hole, and Mika guides himself inside, his voice breaking on a ragged, eager groan at that first, tight _push_ , the slick heat making it feel like he’s melting at the edges as he paws and clings to Shu’s sides. “T-tell me—if you need me to stop—“ _Please don’t, I don’t think I really can._

A string of French curses leaves Shu’s mouth, an incoherent stream of vulgarity he probably couldn’t translate to Japanese if he tried. The feeling of Mika kneeling between his legs, driving up into him hard and hot and impossibly thick, is enough to steal any senses he has, to make him alternate between hiccupping stillness and frantic clinging.

His body can’t quite decide what signals to send to his brain. They ricochet wildly between _Too much, get it out, not supposed to be there!!_ and _more more more more more more--_

He gulps for breath, bearing down a little, easing into the second sensation while his eyes flutter. It’s so much, but it’s so much of something he _wants_ , and he isn’t gentle when he lurches up, biting Mika’s lip with his next kiss. “J-just like this, don’t stop, just--don’t stop, _mon Dieu_ \--Mika--”

Mika just nods, as if he gets what Shu is asking for, and he _does_ , when Shu is grabbing at him like that, biting him and clinging and squeezing around his cock like he can’t _stop_ pulling him in. He stifles a whimper into to Shu’s neck as he rocks forward, sinking in deeper still, and his fingers squeeze and pull at Shu’s hips, helping himself to thrust in as deep as he can.

“You feel _so_ good,” Mika whispers, biting his own lip and tasting blood when he plants a hand next to Shu’s head, bracing to get a better rhythm going. He’s gonna die like this, he’s _sure_ of it.

“Does it?”

Shu grabs at Mika’s chest, clutches at his face, eyes searching. “It’s--it’s good?” he asks uncertainly. “You like me, like this?” It’s almost pleading, almost desperate, as he wraps his legs around Mika’s waist, unwilling to let go even for a second.

“You’re perfect,” Mika mutters, scooting his knees up closer and groaning into Shu’s neck when his face drops back down into the curve of his shoulder. “’s not fair, how are you—how are you _so_ good? Shuuu…” Distractedly, he paws between them, grabbing for Shu’s cock. “I wanna come inside you,” he breathes against Shu’s ear. “I…is that okay? Or should I—“

The words are the most powerful thing, but the grab at his cock is the final straw, grabbing him over the edge and sending him into oblivion. Shu hears himself let out a scream, probably in Mika’s ear, when his whole body convulses, squeezing and spasming down around the thick cock inside him. His nails dig in deep, scoring over Mika’s shoulders, legs trembling and tight around Mika’s waist, not letting him go even if he’d wanted to pull out.

If there was any option before, there certainly isn’t now—and it has nothing to do with how tightly Shu holds onto him, and everything to do with how his mind surrenders helplessly to the way Shu feels when he comes, tight and trembly and helplessly overwhelmed. Mika stuffs his face into his Shu’s neck, stifling the noises he’s making when he grinds in hard, helpless to do anything but _have_ Shu until he’s lost, buried inside as deeply as he can be when he comes, gasping and panting into Shu’s shoulder.

This is too much.

Shu buries his face in Mika’s shoulder when the tears hit, clinging to his back as he tries to stifle the sobs wracking their way out of his body. “N-not mad,” he gasps, not wanting Mika to misunderstand. “N-not hurt, just--”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine—“ Mika’s mind is still delightfully fuzzy, but that doesn’t mean he can’t pet and smooth Shu’s sweaty hair, his face nuzzling into the side of his neck. “I get it,” he mumbles, his own voice hiccuping a little. “I get it, ’s fine.” He’s pretty sure he’s not equipped to deal with this kinda thing, but who else would be better at it? Ahh, he’s gotta keep leveling up, at this rate.

Shu is pretty sure that if it were anyone else, he’d be inconsolable for the better part of an hour. With Mika reassuring him, petting him and murmuring gently in his ear, he feels the tears stop in just a few minutes, leaving him pleasantly exhausted and deliciously boneless, limbs dropping down to the bed. “I don’t know why you put up with me,” he whispers, tracing his fingers over Mika’s palm, then his wrist. “I’m...grateful. That you’re here. With me, like this.”

“’s not puttin’ up with someone if you love ‘em,” Mika contently sighs, flopping himself down on top of Shu unrepentantly. If Shu wants him to move, he’ll tell him, but right now, he’s staying put, even if everything sticky is cooling and sticking them together. “Shuuuu…you’re the _best._ Can we do that all the time?”

“Don’t ask obvious questions,” Shu murmurs, bringing a hand up to stroke Mika’s sweaty hair. “Mm, I’ve read that frequent sexual intercourse improves stamina and decreases anxiety. We could likely both use a bit more of that, hmm?”

“That sounds _good_ ,” Mika breathes, nosing against Shu’s neck. “We’ve definitely gotta do it all the time. And before Lives, ‘specially.”

“Oh, three or four times before a Live, I expect.”

“…Is that blowjobs or stuff like this, ‘cuz, uh, Shu, you still gotta be able t’move.”

“How dare you question my stamina? I’ll do it as often as I like, and be all the more radiant for it. Ah, don’t _squirm_ like that, I’ll die!”

Mika decides not to remark on how he’s barely moving at all and Shu is still shrieking like he’s going to die. “Whatever y’want, _Oshi-san,_ ” he hums. “You’re the expert!”

For the first time, Shu understands why Tenshouin looks as if he were hit by a train after putting up with Wataru’s exuberance. Mika is no Wataru, and Shu still feels as if he’s accomplished a great feat of strength by making it through this alive. “When you’re feeling up to it,” he says, stroking a hand down Mika’s spine, “we should bathe. Shit, the meat! How long has it--”

He checks the clock, and his cheeks color. “Ah. I thought that lasted longer.”

“We were pretty quick about it,” Mika admits without any ounce of shame. Slowly, carefully, he peels himself off of Shu, grimacing at the stickiness and how weird it feels to finally pull out, bleck. “Do you need help gettin’ to the shower? I’ll strip the bed and get laundry started, if you want…”

“How dare you? I don’t need any help!” Shu’s legs wobble from the unfamiliar movements, but he manages to stand, bracing himself on the bed. “Ah, I’ve never been so pleased that the rest of my family wants nothing to do with the ancestral home. More for us, eh? Come bathe with me, you can do the laundry afterwards while I’m cooking.”

“Coming, coming,” Mika hums, slowly rolling his way out of bed, and trying not to look too pleased with himself at how wobbly Shu looks. He needs to get better at hiding that kind of face, or else Shu’s gonna start getting _really_ aggravated him (but it’s not _his_ fault that Shu looks this cute!).


End file.
